My Christmas Eve lesson is about hibernating animals. Woodland frogs, I find out, hibernate under leaves, their bodies freezing and then thawing out in spring.
The kids are not as amazed by this as I am.
We talk about monsters. We talk about things that scare them. I tell them again about dolls that look too much like people. But I keep thinking of frogs coming back to life.
When I get home Cathreen has a new cast. It's small and blue and looks like one of those knee braces except for it's on her hand. Compared to the last piece it's adorable. It allows her fingers to breathe.
She says in the morning she washed her hand and dead skin flaked off like rain.
These events have me thinking about the New Year, starting fresh. Cathreen comes in and says not to write about our Christmas.
Before midnight we deliver presents for her tutoring kids. We call ourselves Santa's helpers. The two boys have plastic bows that shoot arrows with suction cups on the end of them. I shoot one boy in the stomach. I tell them not to shoot at their teachers. They listen.
We tell my boss I'm not coming on Christmas and it's up to him what to do. "It's God's day," Cathreen says. That's right. We'll leave it up to God.
Taking a break to say, Merry Christmas, then thinking this might end up longer than I had thought it would, originally.
the project has moved
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