When we go to bed, it’s something of an act of faith. We assume that we’ll wake in the morning, that life will continue as normal.

When you’re a child of Polish heritage and you go to bed on December fifth, you do so with a certain faith that Mikołaj will come and leave a little something if you’ve been good. It’s probably not just Polish kids — it’s probably a Catholicism thing, since St. Nicholas’s day is today.

At our house, Mikołaj tends to bring practical gifts. No toys or games — books and other such every-day items. For instance, we recently had issues with lacking umbrellas when we had a lot of rain for several days on end. No one really had a satisfactory way to keep the rain off them. Somehow, Mikołaj figured that out and brought umbrellas for the kids. The Boy got a Thomas the Train umbrella while the Girl received an umbrella with a print of Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

And as usual, there were Polish books and CDs for everyone.

After lunch, we all headed out to the yard for some decorating.

And some playing.

Once everything was hung and the power cords stretched out and draped here and there, the ladders put up and the empty boxes replaced, we went to the local open air market to get our tree. It’s often such a chore in a way: which one do we choose? We end up going back and forth between two or three, thinking about it, talking about it — at least that’s how it’s always seemed to me. Today, though, it was a simple enough matter. I suggested a tree; K agreed, then reconsidered; K suggested a tree; I agreed; we purchased it.

Soon enough it was strapped down to our car, then propped on our back patio, then standing in our living room. A fairly painless adventure this time. But I really shouldn’t complain: however long it takes to pick a tree is however long it takes to pick the perfect tree. This year, we certainly picked a perfect one — full, thick, and heavy, not to mention tall — so perfect that when we put it up and K and the kids hung all the decorations, it began leaning toward the middle of the room.

But that’s a story for another post. This one needs a perfect ending, like catching Santa just as he hops in his minivan and heads out to spread some Christmas cheer.