Rush to the nativity

I find myself often correcting Caden during the day. He means well, but I'm such a Type-A perfectionist I can't help myself. He'll do a fantastic job cleaning up, and after he leaves the room, I'll make the final small adjustments so things are just the way I want them. It's a sickness, I know.

I spent an entire day decorating my house for Christmas. I wish I could say I did it merrily with my children, but alas it was not the case. I tried to get it done in spite of them, trying to keep them otherwise occupied so I could complete this task. Caden was around the decorations only long enough to break an angel from my nativity set.

My nativity set. I have spent years collecting pieces to it, having all of the major characters and even including some others. The inn keeper, a cow, two angels (now one lone winged messenger). I spent time selecting the perfect place in our new house to spread out all of the pieces, giving each proper display space, all angling in toward the stable where a properly distanced Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus all have room.

After breaking a piece of my nativity, I quickly found the Little People nativity set so the kids could have something with which to play. Evan frustrated me because he was always walking around with a few of the pieces, too often the baby Jesus, and then leaving them somewhere in our house. I would find a stray camel, wiseman, or Joseph and bring them back to the stable. Then, in my obsessive-compulsive way, I would spread all of the characters out and neatly display them like my nativity. This is the way it should be.

Or so I thought. Until I walked in on Caden playing with the nativity pieces one afternoon. He was telling the story as accurately as any three-year-old could do, even using voices for all of the different characters (including the animals). I ran to get my camera. I had to capture what he had done.

He had jam-packed all of the characters as close to the stable as possible. And why wouldn't he? Weren't all of these people and animals so interested to see the baby Jesus that they would rush to the stable and elbow each other in a Walmart-Black-Friday sort of way? My nativity was so peaceful and patient, more like an old yawning story than a new exciting reality. But shepherds were disrupted in the middle of the night by angels--why wouldn't they rush? Why wouldn't they stand on their toes to get a glimpse of what is possibly the most important person they will ever meet?

I was moved. Not enough to change the look of my nativity. I still didn't like the crowded look of his stable, and besides, I couldn't show off each individual piece that way. But that doesn't mean mine was in any way better. In fact, if I had to, I would admit defeat to my three-year-old. And if he felt the need to change my nativity after I left the room, I couldn't blame him.

As long as he didn't break any more of my pieces. It's not fair when his are plastic.