Mr. Grinch's friend, Ms. Grinch, appeared at my house last night looking to cut corners and curb every one's enthusiasm, especially the children's.
She was insisting that patience was a virtue and that waiting and waiting and waiting for the big day to come builds character.
She was obsessed with tidying up, getting organized and crossing items off her Christmas TO-DO list.
She had no time to laugh with Alvin and the Chipmunks.
When she glanced at the adorable Christmas card that she and her husband made, she immediately got hives thinking of the stack she needed to personalize and mail out in the days to come.
She was frustrated that her soon-to-be-eight-year-old son was digging his heels in about opening up the Star Wars costume that arrived for his birthday party in January.
As the evening went on and the fire roared, Ms. Grinch got very close to roaring herself. She was dangerously close to making a Christmas memory no one would ever forget . . .
She had the distinct calling to eat Candy Cane Joe-Joe's as a way to soothe herself, but realized that a new assignment at work had her so closely allied to calorie counting that she was suddenly aware of her emotional eating.
She was tired, a Monday night tired. So she brewed up some Chamomile tea and sipped it quietly.
She longed in that moment for a change of heart, a small adjustment to her Grinchiness and wondered how to find the way out.
She sat down on the sofa to watch the evening news with her husband. But, instead of listening to what was announced, Ms. Grinch fell asleep.
She drifted into a deep slumber. In fact, she slept and slept and slept, like a young princess atop a feather bed.
Her husband tucked her in upstairs where she slept for seven more hours.
When she awoke, she brewed up her single cup of coffee, skipped the heavy cream due to the job assignment, and realized that she - Ms. Grinch herself - was worthy of Christmas joy too!
She promised to loosen the tight string around her heart and make room for the love of the season. She wasn't sure how it would go, but something about it felt very familiar to her.
As if she had felt that way once before, perhaps as a young girl . . . And all was new again.