My favourite moment this Christmas was when my 5-year-old grandson dragged me into the front room to admire my own Christmas tree.
Rather, to admire one particular ornament, which featured a photo of my then-4-year-old grandson.
“How did I get on the tree?” he marvelled, clearly not recalling that he had made that ornament, with its popsicle-stick frame, and given it to his grandpa last Christmas.
The appearance of his face on an ornament on my tree joined all of those other apparently inexplicable occurrences this time of year that kids lump under the headings of “Christmas” or “magic”.
That he drew a blank was understandable. A fifth of his young life had passed in the interim. And in his crafty house, Kindergarten and assorted extracurricular programs he has constructed a cornucopia of keepsakes in the past year.
Expecting him to remember that particular creation was a little like dredging up one of the columns from a couple of decades ago and calling on me to recite it.
Still, I don’t know who was more excited and pleased: The young one who discovered his own face on a tree ornament or the grandpa who had thought to hang it at the level of a five-year-old’s eyes.
Photo: My tree this morning, magically transported outside. Happy New Year, all.