It’s still Christmas

Yesterday, Charlie saw a man with a long, white beard.

“Merry Christmas!” he said.

All through December, and January and February, he’s been saying Merry Christmas—for bright lights, for people who look like Santa Claus, or just as an excited greeting. His joy was infectious.

But this is March.

Enough is enough.

“It’s March, Charlie,” I said. “It’s not Christmas anymore. Did you think that man looked like Santa Claus?”

“Ho ho ho.”

At least he’ll be ready for next Christmas.


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