Nativity

We were at my mother-in-law's house, decorating her Christmas tree on the weekend. She's been a widow now for more than 20 years, and I thought it would be a nice gesture to bring over all of my loud, rambunctious children to her quiet house to assist with decking the halls.

Anyhow, I was amazed at the ornaments she had, still in the original boxes, from 30+ years ago. Browned, faded cardboard boxes from department stores that had long since closed down. I imagined each year, she would lovingly replace each ornament in the exact right place in the exact right box that it was purchased in. I wondered if she she still remembered buying those ornaments when her children were young.

Anyhow, at the bottom of a box, lovingly wrapped, I located her nativity set. I put the stable on a small endtable and proceeded to unwrap all of the figures and animals, my 5-year old son assisting. When we were done, all the figures were posed in a perfect tableau, so that you could see every one of their faces as they all looked out peacefully over the livingroom.

"How does it look?" I asked Joey.

He stared at the nativity scene pensively. And before I could stop him, he started moving and rearranging all of the figures.

"Joey, just leave it alone!" I begged.

"No, mommy, wait." He said, putting the finishing touches on his creation. When he stepped away, all the figures were turned, their backs to the livingroom.

"What did you do that for?" I exclaimed angrily. "I had them all perfect!"

"But Mommy," he said in a small voice, "shouldn't they all be watching baby Jesus?"