I plopped on the bed this morning and sighed. And then I sighed louder so JD could ask what was wrong. It just doesn't feeeeel like Christmas Eve. I don't know what I was expecting. Snow? Chestnuts roasting on an open fire? Santa's footsteps on the roof? Nah. But something was missing.
I'll be the first to admit I suffer from the Greener Grass Syndrome (someone is having more fun and eating tastier food wearing cuter shoes with perfect hair right now), so perhaps this played into how I felt. JD suggested grabbing our books and heading to the beach with Polo. And like Baby Bear's porridge, it was just right.