Day 12: Christmas Past
I’m not sure what year these photos are from, but you can sort of tell based on how many kids there are. Amy can’t be older than three on the left photo as Brad isn’t born. And Brad was probably 17 or 18 months in the right photo so I would have been about 7-ish. I love the pictures. They are just so ’70s fabulous. 
Journaling reads:
Okay, so I’ll address the obvious. Yes, we all had the same haircut. We all had the same haircut for many years. And yes, my mom did cut our hair. Gotta love it! When I look at these pictures I laugh and cringe at the same time. Snotty noses, red eyes, bowl haircuts — hardly model shots. But at the same time, they are so real and remind me of the wonderful Christmas memories I shared with my family over the years. Lately I have been thinking a lot about Santa Claus and when exactly I stopped believing in him. I can’t tell you how old I was, but I do remember when it happened. I was at my Aunt Paulette’s house on Christmas Eve. Like any curious child, I started looking at the presents under the tree (I wanted to feel them, shake them … try to guess what was inside). I must have been old enough to read, because I found some presents that were for my cousins from Santa. But since it was Christmas Eve Santa had been there yet … or so I had always believed. And then it hit me. He wasn’t coming. The presents were already there because someone else put them there. I don’t remember being sad that I knew … I just knew.
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