A Christmas Miracle!

Back in September we woke up one Monday morning to find the front driver's side window of our 4Runner shattered and our ipod stolen.  I wanted to move.  I was so upset by the theft and that there was auto glass all over the grass where my kids play, and I hated to go to or from the car at night.  Plus, with our pared-down grad. student budget, just going out and buying a new 80G ipod was not a reasonable option.  We dutifully reported it to the police with no expectation that it would do anything other than help them more accurately reflect the crime rate in what seemed then to be a rotten little town.
But then, Monday, Dec 14, Justin got a call--the police wanted to speak with him.  They had recovered a number of ipods and gps's from four little punks who had been trying to sell them on ebay.  They had so many that they were behind and their inventory was piling up.  The trick is, they were finally caught because some of the gps's were code-protected, and after people bought them on ebay they realized they had been stolen and reported it to the police. We found a copy of our ipod's serial number (as the last ipod to be synced with our desktop), called the police and they said, "Yep, it looks like they tried to scratch off the serial number, but we think it's yours."  Off to the police station Justin went (it was fun to say that Dad had to go down to the police station--the kids' eyes got really big).
Our ipod was labeled "#21," it was full of Gangster rap and "The Best of Beethoven" (I'm not sure how to feel about a delinquent who pairs those two genres of music, maybe there's hope for him after due justice?).  We reformatted it and renamed it from "Zwags" (courtesy of the delinquent) to "Pheonix" to commemorate its restoration. We've also turned in a copy of the receipt for replacing the window, and may be able to recover that cost as well, in time.  Our faith in justice is renewed and with enough memory to hold our entire music collection our life has a more extensive and eclectic soundtrack again. :)
Merry Christmas to All, and to all a Good (Free-Of-Petty-Theft) Night!

Santa Doubt

It makes sense, really. I mean, Forester is 7.5 yrs old, so of course he is going to start wondering about that big guy with the beard in the red suit, but I didn't expect the breaking point to be so trivial...
Santa Claus came to visit all the kids in our ward at our ward Christmas activity last Saturday afternoon.  He very generously brought a cool treat bag with candy, a jingle bell, some other small themed items, and a Christmas cookie cutter, for each little kid.  As soon as he sat down Aspen was so overcome with love that she planted herself next to his chair, resting her cheek on his arm and gazing up at him adoringly, by turns, the entire time he was visiting with all the other kids.  As she told me later, "Santa is my friend.  I love him."  Her almost 3 yr old mind just welcomed him in.  But Forester seemed to struggle a bit.
Sure, he stood in line, grin on his cute face, sat on his lap, and asked for a Star Wars something-or-other; but then he got his treat bag and the bright Christmas magic began to dim.  He walked up to Nathan (a great friend--he's married to Emily's sister and although we aren't technically related, we've adopted them as Aunt and Uncle) and said, "I have a hard time believing that that is Santa Claus."
Poor Nathan, his first child isn't due for another 2 weeks and he suddenly found himself thrust into one of those key growing-up moments: does he shatter the dream, or frantically shore it up?  He, wisely, opted for ignorance and just asked Forester why he thought that.
Forester pulled out his new cookie cutter.  He brandished it at Nathan and, in a state of
shock and confusion, insisted that this couldn't be the REAL Santa because he had given Forester a cookie cutter.  As he said, "What am I supposed to do with this?"  Nathan: "You could make cookies for Santa."  Forester: "What?!  How?!  I don't know how to make gingerbread men!"
We tried to problem-solve the situation by suggesting that perhaps I could help him make cookies, but he still seems doubtful.  He's been asking if the Santa that came to visit him at Grammy and Grandpa Chapman's hotel the last few years is really Santa or not.  The veil of Christmas magic is getting thin.  It reminds me of the Christmas a few years ago when Ilana, quietly, when the little kids weren't around, asked me, "Is Santa Claus a myth?"