Thea was a little obsessed with all of the small elements of Christmas, particularly the lights and the tree and the stockings and the lights and the lights and Baby Jesus.
As the decorations have slowly evaporated from her world, she's managed to cling to the small remnants. This morning, I think, she finally managed to let go of Christmas.
She woke, as usual, at the crack of dawn and curled up on the couch with me as she rubbed her eyes.
"Three. Wisa. Mens. Gone," she said, snuggling close. "Penguins, gone. Baby Jesus, gone. Snowmans, gone."
She went through her litany of Christmas items -- the reindeer, the orange angel (tree ornament), the (musical gingerbread) house.
And with what felt (to me) like a heavy sigh, she concluded, "Santa, gone. Christmas, all gone."
I think she's managed to let it go.