Well, two things, both from this evening.
First, we were navigating thick holiday traffic downtown and I had spiny, uncharitable thoughts jousting with sodden self-pity in the confines of my skull, inspiring clenched teeth & subvocal muttering on topics unbecoming a family blog, when off a long silence Fuss began singing 'Christmastime Is Here' in his pure, high little boy voice.
And you cannot maintain a scowl or continue obsessing over astronomical car repairs in the face of such a display.
Coming home we picked up dinner from the Mexican market and sat together on the couch, availing ourselves of 'Fireplace for your Home' on Netflix (the one without the soundtrack of awful christmas standards, TYVM). Fuss settled in between us and said
"We've got burritos, we've got a fire on the teevee, we've got mama...what's wrong with that? I'm glad I'm here with my family."
Which is the kind of parental validation you like to get after five years of relentless struggle with an offspring as unyielding and iron willed as Fuss.