Fourth Sunday of Advent

Despite his long day of travel the previous day, grandson Nathaniel was up at 6, appearing totally refreshed. In fact, he was looking for things to do while I slept. John directed him to the room in which he is most at home, the kitchen. He cut the Stollen, and when everyone was up, he lit the candles.

As we left for church, Nathaniel popped his hat on Grandpa’s head. John said he was the chauffeur, but I thought he looked more like the coachman.

The boys were in fine form, teasing each other and having a good time. They chose to sit together in the very back of the mini-van, and my gallant coachman opened the door to the second row for me. Nathaniel collapsed the seat in front of him and put his legs on it, with his feet against the back of the passenger seat. David, known for compressing himself into small spaces, sat behind me. (On the college choir tour, David fit in the overhead compartment of the coach on a dare.)

Nathaniel made good use of his fancy hat in church to hold his bulletin.  David, next to me, compressed himself into the pew as I took the shot around him.

I’m not sure at what point the fourth Sunday of Advent becomes Christmas Eve, but I presume we will behave properly.