Yesterday, we at the Seymour United Methodist Church held a Las Posadas celebration, a Mexican Christmas tradition. It should be a nine-day celebration from December 16 to Christmas Eve, but the odds of Wisconsin having nine good days of weather in a row is a nil. Even the owners of our donkey decided that it was too cold for our little beast of burden.
Our version includes a journey following Mary and Joseph from house to house seeking shelter as we sing Christmas carols. We are always refused. Finally, we reach the church which is willing to let us all in and serve us a fiesta of Hispanic food followed by the smashing of pinatas, three of them for three age groups.
My five year old grandson Evan was there, waiting to take a "whack at that thing" with the youngest revelers. It took him three times through the lineup of toddlers, but he finally knocked the pinata to the floor, with candy and peanuts scattered all over. It takes a grandmother to be that proud of her grandson for violently knocking the head off a papier mache donkey. It takes an observant grandson to know that any Snickers bars are to be delivered directly to said grandmother.
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