Happy Holidays.

It's about 12:15 Christmas morning, and I'm sitting here waiting to make sure my kids are sleeping upstairs before I put their presents under our Christmas tree. I don't feel the same sense of anticipation about the holidays that I used to, not even as a I did when I was a in my twenties but, on the other hand, I look forward to it more than ever. I think what's really going on it that I look forward to seeing my children so excited, which is plenty.

Our oldest, who's 12 years old, doesn't believe in Santa. I'd thought the middle one, our 9-year-0ld daughter, was on the fence, but it became pretty obvious over the weekend that she still believes. The 6-year-old, of course, is an immensely enthusiastic believer, making sure the cookies and milk are placed in just the right spot (I always left cookies and a martini when I was his age) and generously sprinkling our yard with carrot pieces for the reindeer.

What I'm thinking about as I write this is that one of the cliches about parenthood that I always heard but never believed is true -- once you have kids, time just flies. Weren't they just born?

Anyway, they're asleep now, so I'm off. Next time I post, one of them will probably be graduating from college.