Christmas strains bounce off my truck windows as my grandson throws his head back and belts out his renditions of “Away in a Manager” and “Jesus Loves Me,” while shouting ‘Happy Birthday Jesus!’ and ‘Merry Christmas ladies!’ to the two women travelling in the lane next to ours.

I wonder what goes on in the head of a three-year old, I ask myself, as we near our destination.

A question intersects my musings.

“Why is this Baby Jesus’ birthday, Nana?” as he gazes out the window. “Jesus is a big person, not a baby, right?” To which I answer, “Yes, He’s big now but He was a baby when He was born, just like you were.”

“Ohhh…” he replies thoughtfully and returns to watching the world whiz by from his child seat vantage point.

Seconds later, he probes again. “Nana, where does Jesus live now?” Stumped for a few seconds, I respond, “Well Henry, Jesus lives in your heart!”

“Ohhh…” and returns back to his ponderings.

Hours later, I find Henry peering quietly and intently into a Nativity scene snow globe placed at the entrance of my sister’s home. He carefully points his little finger to Baby Jesus and inquires, “What is Baby Jesus’ mother’s name?”

“Mary,” my sister softly answers.

“Ohhh…” he lovingly whispers.

A sweet smile unfolds, his eyes twinkle and ever so softly, he leans in and gently places a tender kiss on the globe.

“Happy Birthday Jesus!”