It still strikes me as surprising, but my children love to listen to the story of A Christmas Carol. I mean the real one, by Charles Dickens. Unabridged. I think Myles and Fiona can listen to the telling, because I shout the words, DEAD! and GHOST! They can't help but want to hear more. And then we stop and talk about what it means to be tightfisted. Its kind of lovely. The copy that keeps us going is this beauty illustrated by, Lisbeth Zwerger.
Friday night we saw our town's homey production of Scrooge's ghostly night. It was run through the recreation department and Ebeneezer was played by a twelve year old girl, with a pretty decent British accent. Fiona shout whispered through the whole thing, "When is Scrooge going to change out of his pajamas!!??" Regretfully, this caused me to shout whisper back, and we left in tears, because of refreshment stand controversies. But other than that it was enjoyable.
And tiny Tim wasn't terribly annoying! God Bless us everyone!