I'm calling this the Better Late Than Never Christmas. At 6 p.m., J and his friend walked through the door, after a long and harrowing drive from Toronto. They ended up spending Christmas Eve in a Ramada Inn, eating pizza and feeling extremely lucky not to be stuck in their car in a blizzard on the closed highway.

It seemed entirely possible that they'd be celebrating Christmas night in the same way, but fate smiled on them, and they made it through. So we had our full count of eleven at Christmas dinner, and at least one mother (me) slept a whole lot better, now that she knew where her children were.