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It isn’t that wearing a bike helmet at breakfast is a problem.

When you’re six.

Nor is running so hard your hair feathers right down the middle.

Only why that would happen is a mystery.

A solved one.

And the problem isn’t a missing pair of pants, though those would help.

Nor is it a pair of sunglasses that might be on the wrong face.

The problem isn’t a tiny tree burdened with bells and listing to the left.

Not when it brings her this much joy.

The problem’s not even baby Jesus doing a wheelie in his manger.

Or the wise men swappin’ out their riches and bringin’ gourds instead.

The problem…

if there is one…

is a perception one.

So, uh, keep me seeing the joy, God.

I’m gonna need it.

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