Holy crap, we survived Christmas

Best moment: T (inexplicably--no, actually, it is explicable: it's T) got A a whoopie cushion for her stocking. He was demonstrating it and sat down too hard and blew the thing apart. That in and of itself was pretty funny, but better was A's reaction: "Daddy broke Christmas!"

It truly is the little things.

'Tis the season to be busy

And who thought it was going to be a good idea for me to go out of town the weekend before Christmas? Yeesh.

Anyway, too much happening on the home front for any sort of coherent report, other than to say that (presumably like most children right now) A is absolutely spinning like a top. A loud, out of control, but happy top. I'm at work, though, and Mom's home dealing with her. Bwah ha ha...

Also, apparently my child has bat radar ears because I swear, I'm only muttering the bad stuff now but she hears it anyway. As was evidenced this weekend, when I spent 30 minutes hunting for a parking spot. During that time, she informed me, "We don't say 'shit,' Mommy," and said, "Please don't get us killed."

Ho frickin' ho?

Oh, to be young again…

So, I’m just now starting to attempt to decorate the house. Which means, basically, that I’ve ventured into the Closet of Doom and hauled out the two giant bins that hold all of our Christmas decorations and ornaments. In doing so, I also had to displace an old microwave, which proved to be extremely heavy, so I just set it on the stairs and left it there.

A, of course, was onto the bins like a moth to flame and started prying them open before I could stop her. (I’d wanted it to be a surprise, ha ha, ha ha, as if anyone could keep a toddler out of anything.) I tried, “No, don’t-” but too late, she was already in there. She said, “Oooh, Christmas decorations!”

I said, “I know, honey, but let’s not get into them now. It’s time to go upstairs to take a bath.”

She dutifully (for once) started heading up the stairs, and then stopped, checked by the sight of the microwave. “What’s that, Mommy?”

“That’s a microwave.”

“Oooh, Christmas microwave!”

If only we all were so easy to please, no?

Beatrix Potter is a masochist

Seriously: Am I the only parent who's read her little "gems" and wondered WTF? If children were really her primary audience, well, methinks she didn't like kids that much. In half the books, the cute little animals who serve as children get switched or beaten. Not saying that there's not a time or place... no, no, kidding. I think. But in a book that you're reading to your child?

The coup de grace came last night when A picked out Miss (or Mrs. or Ms., whatever) Jemima Puddle-duck for me to read for the first time. Not only did the poor damned duck have to go to great lengths to hatch her own eggs, she also was almost eaten by a fox AND saw her eggs eaten by puppy dogs! And then, as if THAT weren't enough, she was finally allowed to hatch seven eggs... but only four of them survived, and the deaths of the other three were blamed on her neglect. I mean... really? Jesus Christ. That's hard enough for an adult (at least this one) to stomach, but a child? A kept wondering why I'd skim a page, mutter something to myself, and improvise. ("Oh, look, the nice fox went away." When in reality, he got EATEN by DOGS.)

Maybe I'm just weak of heart or stomach or something. But in my ever humble opinion, these books suuuuuck.

I am still alive...

Even if it is in more of a zombie-fied manner. I may even start posting again someday.

But really... remember when Christmas was actually FUN and not a hassle? Forget the Grinch who stole Christmas; I'm stealing all of December.