The night before Christmas begins with good intentions. Children are tucked into bed “early,” which means they lie perfectly still while their brains throw a party. Every creak in the house becomes a clue. Every gust of wind is definitely reindeer related. Parents, meanwhile, move through the house like undercover agents, whispering, tiptoeing and questioning every life choice that involves assembling toys at midnight.
This is the night when cookies are strategically placed and the fireplace, which is rarely used, suddenly becomes mission critical. Someone will forget batteries. Someone will find them at the very back of a junk drawer. Wrapping paper will fall short and newspaper will find a new purpose.
But beneath the humor and the hustle, there’s something quietly magical about this night. It’s the pause before the joy. The still moment before the living room fills with laughter, torn paper and sock-footed excitement. It’s a night filled with hope, wonder and just enough chaos to remind us that perfection was never the point.
So here’s to the night before Christmas, the night of whispered plans, half-eaten cookies, squeaky floorboards and dreams that feel almost close enough to hear landing on the roof. If there is magic in the world, this is the night it shows up, jingling softly, right on time.
