We did Christmas early this year. My adult kid, my son-in-law, and my grandchild all go on a road trip to visit the other grandparents every other year. The plan was for everyone to come to my house and open presents, have pizza, and then go to the light extravaganza at the Zoo. My son-in-law texted me at the last minute and said they were running late, could I please come to their house? (They live ten short blocks away).

So I threw the gifts in my tote bag and caught a bizarrely jammed bus, on which a gentleman carrying a rolling suitcase was shouting at people to follow the rules. The grandchild was delighted with his gifts. The pizza was highly edible. The family now has an actual kitchen, even though the renovation took five months, so we were all comfortable.

We all caught an equally bizarrely jammed bus the other direction, on which my kid sat white-knuckling it because they don’t like crowds, and wandered happily in the winter darkness through a night-time light display. The Zoo wraps everything with colored lights every year. The immense gorilla statue made of car parts was wearing a jester costume. The usual tower of glowing plastic flamingos loomed over the gorilla. Odd music floated from between the shimmering garlands. Performers juggled, stilt-walked, and did little mini-shows, and the grandchild collected Highly Significant Tokens at various stations for no particular reason. He was, as my adult kid said, “cooked,” because it had been a long day, but he is an equable little soul, and he was happy to be up late and walking in the darkness.

We finished the trip with a ride on an immense, glowing Ferris Wheel, from which (as the grandchild remarked, he could see “Daddy’s workplace,” and then we all piled onto yet another jammed bus. I got off early because my house is on the way.

This morning, I took the Christmas tree down, and so I have my house back.

I get to celebrate the holidays the way I want to, you see. This was one of the better ones. The thing that happens on the 25th is irrelevant.