I'm sitting in my kitchen, enjoying the warm smells of cinnamon and nutmeg and vanilla oozing out of my oven. It smells like the holidays in a way that no scented candle from Target can duplicate. That, and the whiff of fir tree (or is it pine? I have to learn to tell them apart one of these years) every time I gallop into the living room makes me really content.

I mean, okay. Half the time, I'm galloping into the living room to break up a squabble over an ornament or disarm children who are trying to brain each other with an overstuffed snowman pillow, but the scent is still a pleasure, even if the elves are rioting.

My son is full of baloney Holiday Spirit this year, which is making the season bright. He's chattering away about the ceramic village my grandmother painted for me shortly before she passed away, wondering about the tiny inhabitants of this breakable town. He oohs and aahs and insists that all lights in the house be extinguished in the evenings, so he can bask in the glow of the Christmas tree.

I can be rather grinchesque this time of year, begrudging the money spent and the effort demanded to 'do' the holiday right. Add to that my youngest daughter's birthday next week, and I can whip myself into a fine frenzy of indignation. I've done it in years past, and I was gearing up to do it this year, too. However, my little boy has filled the house with the sounds of off-tune carols and random shouts of holiday joy, and it's infectious.

I'm baking cookies, and I'm singing carols, and I'm wearing a sweatshirt with a fuzzy reindeer on it. (Yeah, baby!) With the belief in magic radiating from my children, it feels like the holidays I remember as a child.

Maybe my Scroogy moods weren't the result of sleep deprivation, or the product of being married to someone who didn't really celebrate Christmas growing up. Maybe I wasn't overwhelmed by the knowledge of how my own mother always does things to the hilt, and my efforts seemed to pale in comparison.

I think all I needed was a little enthusiasm from the peanut gallery. The kids have always loved the presents, and the pomp and circumstance, but this is the first year that they have really been participating in the decorating, and the baking, and the singing, and the assulting with Santa-shaped pillows. Last year was chaotic with our new floors going in the week before Christmas, but this year? I'm savoring the build up. I'm gaining the pounds, people! Pour me another eggnog! Pass me a cookie!

I'm finding myself swept up in the wonder of it all, and I'm not cynical. I'm believing again.