Joy of Christmas

My Christmas lights campaign started early in December.

“Look, kids,” I’d say while driving the car from our day-care provider’s house or on the way home from school.

“There are Santa and Rudolph!” Or, “Aren’t those lights preettttty??”

My kids are typical suburban kids who put in a lot of riding-in-the-car time. They’ve figured out their own ways to pass the time.

“Yeah, sure,” my 4-year-old would say, in a dismissive tone learned from some teenagers she knows.

“Mom, I’m doing something,” her sister would say from her side of the back seat. “Something” might be sounding out words in a new library book or eating the rest of the day’s lunch.

“You’re missing the season!” I would tell them.

“Huh?” they’d reply.

In an exasperated voice, I told them to look at the brilliant, multi-colored display in front of us, actually stopping the car in full view of its glory.

“When you were little, you used to love Christmas lights,” I told my almost-7-year-old, Julianna. “You begged me to see ‘Kissmas yites.’ ”

“Kissmas yites,” Ella said, savoring the term and putting it away for future use.

Every day, on the way home in the dark, I’d find a different light display and point it out. Soon, Ella was on board with me, but perhaps for the wrong reasons.

“Kissmas yites!” she’d say, with a sideways glance at her glowering sister.

Every day I’d veer off of our normal path, looking for lights we hadn’t seen before. We wound our way among MSU’s high-rise residence halls, with lighted packages and snowmen high above. We tooled down Michigan Avenue, looking for Santa and his reindeer atop Sparrow Hospital, and stopping at the light at Capitol and Michigan to admire the state tree. We drove blocks out of our way in our East Lansing neighborhood to chase a red-and-green glow.

Slowly, I began to win them over. They turned their eyes outward instead of inward. They started telling me where to look.

The piece de resistance was Roberts Street. We were eastbound on Mt. Hope Avenue between Cedar and Pennsylvania when one of the girls, looking south, shouted “Turn!”

The street full of cute little bungalows was nearly as bright as day with glowing inflatable figures, illuminated candy canes and hundreds of yards of lights covering porches and houses on both sides of the street.

“Stop!” shouted Julianna in front of one particular home. “Look!”

The wire-frame, lighted deer in the yard weren’t simply standing still. Two moved their heads from side to side, and one appeared to graze on the lawn.

“That’s so cool,” Julianna said. “Can we come back sometime?”

“Sure,” I said. “Anytime.” And I drove happily eastward, knowing they’ll appreciate “Kissmas yites” for the rest of the season and years to come.

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