Our house is looking downright cheery and bright both inside and out, but I decide we needed a few more strings of lights and pick up four new boxes when I am shopping one day. I throw white lights over the two bushes in front of our house and run colored lights to our flower boxes in the front windows. The result is satisfying and I take note of the spectacle every time I pull in our driveway after dark. Our house seems to be providing the season's cheer for the entire country block.
On one such night, I am returning home with my two older boys. We have been out sledding. I slow in front of our house to get a good long glimpse of our darling house and I make some sort of remark about its cheerfulness and the next thing I know, Nolan is making his own remarks.
"Vomit," he squeaks, quietly, almost imperceptibly from the back of the car.
"What?!" Nonplussed, I fumble for even that one word.
"It looks like vomit." He states as a matter of fact.
"What?!" I can't believe my ears.
"It looks like the windows are vomiting."
With new eyes I examine the front of our festive home and realize he is right. It does, in fact, look like our windows are upheaving a big helping of Fruity Pebbles.
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