A 2023 Christmas Letter for the Thorough People

Every year I think about not writing one of these, but then I remember that the internet is forever, and one day, my kids and grandkids will pull up these letters on their inner eye screens and read about all the fun that was had back before everyone lived on the moon.

Let’s get to it.

2023 was a year like no other–mainly because 2023 has never happened before (at least not in this timeline). The Johnson Ensemble won some, lost some, and told Alexa to play a lot of show tunes.

Case is thriving in first grade, and by thriving, I mean she goes to school every day excited to see her teacher. Hopefully she is learning to read. She tried cheerleading this year because she decided to tackle all the things she hates at once: being in crowds, performing while people look at her, and wearing uncomfortable clothes. She is an enigma–an enigma who can do killer cartwheels and outstanding splits. The one thing I do know is that she is running some kind of smuggling ring for Pokémon cards and LOL dolls, neither of which are things she knew about before first grade. Regardless, based on the number of items I clean out of her backpack on the weekend, I am positive she is the donna of the toy mafia, so hooray for leadership skills! #girlboss

Bea is taking ballet, tap, and jazz classes, and during a recent parent sneak peak, she was floored that her mom knew what a chassé was. Later when I explained that I used to be a dancer, she said, “Bruh. Was that like 50 years ago when you were a kid?” IT’S MY FAVORITE. I LOVE BEING CALLED BRUH. Bea has turned into quite the little scientist, and we have been making our way through some big kid books together. I am so proud of how hard she works and how rapidly she is starting to understand her strengths as a learner-human. At Thanksgiving, the girls asked if they could move into separate bedrooms and ask Santa for all the swag needed for their room makeovers. I heard a rumor from Santa that Bea’s room is ocean themed because you can’t spell beach or beautiful without Bea.

BEN JOHNSON (you have to say it that way every time–I don’t know why, but you do; I don’t make the rules) is a full-sized human now having just turned 15 and overtaken his brother in height. He comes from Hobbits on my side, but it looks as though the Johnson shelf-reachers might win out eventually with his current genetic leanings–tall, thin, and able to help his mom do so many things, so she doesn’t fall off the counter. He has tackled baseball, marching and symphonic band, and leadership in his Boy Scout troop this year with ease. His transition into high school has thus far included stellar academics and more importantly stellar friend choices, which is more than I could hope for in a kid who punched someone in the face in preschool drawing blood because “his fists were too fast.” That one might turn out okay.

Watching Will this year has been an exercise in holding my breath to see what happens in both difficult and triumphant moments. The thing about having an almost adult kid is that it’s only about 1% my job to help him regulate and the rest is on him–this wonderful, dynamic, charismatic, thoughtful human whose brain isn’t done baking yet. We are in the thick of BFA program auditions. For those unfamiliar with the process, it is like running an Ironman on the way to the Triwizard Tournament at the summit of Everest while singing two selections–one up tempo and one ballad–with a prepared monologue from a Tony-winning play. IN TAP SHOES! I’m not exaggerating. I’m a theatre mom–we’re dramatic. But also, it has been an incredibly intense process, and we look forward to making the right decision for Will in the coming months.

Scott works at the five sided building in DC but also commutes to Suffolk regularly. He built us a beautiful deck this year, where he spends his time “dacking” in his favorite chairs which were originally designed for tuberculosis patients (#themoreyouknow). Santa is bringing him a fancy fire pit, so he can drink his weird whiskey drinks outside by a fire when it’s cold out too. We celebrate twenty years of marriage on December 12th, and we gave ourselves the gift of therapy for our anniversary because couples that cry together die together. I really just put that line in to see if anyone makes it this far into the letter. Scott also took a more active role in scouting this year as he helped get Will across the finish line to his Eagle. He and Ben have a big, smelly trip to Philmont planned next year.

And me? It’s been a year of exploration and adventure and doing all kinds of wild and fun things. I started the year in a new position at the library and ended the year working at a corporate gifting company and a publishing house all while contract editing and publishing my first book. IT WAS A DABBLING YEAR. I’m also leading Troop 52180 with ten of the cutest daisies and brownies in all the land and volunteering my time when I can with all the other kid-related stuff. People often ask me where I get all my spare time, so it’s only fair that I let everyone know that I’m actually a Replicant. I’m glad to finally get that off my chest, and now I have to go before the Blade Runners find me.

2024 is going to be another banner year for the Johnsons–lots of exciting things on the horizon. I think writing this at midnight instead of sleeping is the best choice I’ve made all year. Happy holidays to all, and please remember that Jesus is the reason for the season, so don’t make him look bad.

Peace & Joy,

Leia & the Johnson Ensemble