To My Kids on the First Day After Christmas Break

Kids,

Tomorrow you go back to school, after two weeks off. Man, we sure had fun, didn’t we?

Late bedtimes, games, movies, way too much junk food, laughter, a little bit of fighting, and more laughter.

But it’s got to end, doesn’t it. It wouldn’t be as fun if it was like that all the time.

I know you’ve missed seeing your friends every day. You’ve missed all of your activities, play dates and bus rides.

Studying, not so much. I know. I understand.

I don’t think I can explain this sort of thing to you with any degree of clarity, as it’s something you’ll just have to understand when you get to this point in your life. But I need this time of year, when I can have you to myself. When the distractions of the rest of the year pull back and tighten our focus on the things that matter most to us.

It’s selfish, I know. But I’m your dad, and I get to be selfish with you for the rest of your lives. That’s federal law, and I don’t want you to go to jail. Tell your friends that.

But again, good things must come to an end, and make way for other good things.

So thus it shall be — you must go back to school tomorrow.

But before you do, there are a few things I want to talk to you about.

Surely your early morning bus ride conversations will land on Christmas, and what presents were received.

Right now, I hope you feel happy with the day’s bounty. We had a great Christmas day, with so much to be given and received. So many blessings, both physical and emotional. The smiles on your faces as you opened present after present — those were the gifts I’ll remember the most.

But I know those conversations — the ones you’ll surely have tomorrow. You’ll hear what others received, and the happiness and joy with which you now reflect on your Christmas will — if only for a moment — give way to jealousy and sadness for what you didn’t receive.

I wish I could say that this feeling will go away as you get older, but it doesn’t. I still feel that way sometimes, when I hear what others received, bought for themselves, or where they traveled to.

But if I can teach you one thing, it’s that for every person who got more than you did for Christmas, there were so many who got much, much less.

There are countless for whom Christmas passed without even one gift, and those that were unable to spend even one minute surrounded in a warm home by those that loved them most in the world.

How could you possibly understand this? It’s something you’ll just have to observe as you grow up, taking in the experiences that you’ll gather as you see things you haven’t seen, visit places you haven’t visited and meet people you haven’t met.

But for now, I’m sorry. Sorry for the feelings you’ll have when you hear the long lists of presents received by those friends who you look up to with such admiration. Those whose lives might sound more glamorous and less taxing. I know how unfun it can be to take part in those conversations, and it hurts me to know you’ll feel bad.

I’m not sorry, however, for what you were given. I don’t feel bad for working hard to purchase the gifts that you received, nor will I apologize for rejecting the common seasonal habit of spending beyond one’s means to provide an elaborate Christmas morning.

I won’t buy your affection, nor will I spend money I don’t have just to gain you favor in the eyes of your companions.

What I will do is promise that I’ll do whatever I have to to provide you with what you need to grow into a strong, capable person, worthy of genuine admiration — the kind earned through actions rather than commerce.

I’ll spend what time I can teaching you, playing with you and loving you.

I’ll put my phone down when I don’t need it, and listen to you tell me about your day, what you learned and what you need.

I’ll love your siblings, your mother and any friends you bring into our home, and extend to them the same promises of attention, time and respect.

I’ll do my best to find opportunities to broaden your perspectives, put you in contact with those who are less fortunate than we are, and provide opportunities for us to serve them together.

Go. Enjoy your time back. Laugh with your friends, learn what you can and then come home. Back into this house, where you’ll always be welcome, loved and uplifted.

We can’t give you everything. But we can give you the best of what we have, and the best of what we know.

Love,
Your parents