Christmas Miracle

So we survived another one ...

Actually, as Christmases go, it was pretty good; the adults behaved and only a couple of the small children melted down. Everybody seemed happy and seemed to have a fine ole time. Toys, wrapping paper, boxes, turkey and dressing, and soap bubbles in the snow and rain mix ...

One broken swivel chair, a tall one that got knocked over and hit at just the right angle to jiggle the swivel plate crooked and spill the ball-bearings all over the rug. My son and I took it apart, far as we could, but the plate had one of those hardened-steel flanges for the center post and bending it enough to get the plate apart and then back together was beyond our tools. 

I found a new one online for under twenty bucks. 

The miracle: At Thanksgiving, with several of the boys back in our bedroom watching cartoons on the tube, the TV remote disappeared. We searched for it high and low, every nook, cranny, and sock drawer. Under the bed, Under the furniture. In the toilet. Nothing. Some days, I'd get up and do another fifteen minutes, trying to think like a grandson seeking to torture his grandfather.

Zip.

Yesterday, after the boys cleared out of the bedroom, there on the floor in front of the TV, the missing remote. All I can think of was that the grandson we suspected the most went back to wherever he had stashed it and retrieved it. In all the excitement, he forgot to hide the remote before he left.

Either that, or Santa Claus left me a duplicate ...