I think there should be a national ban on 'Telling-Your-Mom-What-You-Really-Want-For-Christmas' after December 10th. For serious. Because Teenager #1 just blurted out, "I want sweaters. Lots of sweaters." Ah, what?
This comes as shocking news to a Santa who is nearing the end of gift buying. There are 13 days left, people. No new items are allowed to be added to the list. Nor are you allowed to change your mind about something you loved-loved-loved 2 weeks ago. Nada. No more talking.
From here on out, I'm telling my kids, "You better just cross your fingers and hope you get lucky. Oh, and being really nice to me will earn you extra presents." I'm the kind of parent that tries to buy their love.
After I made the gingerbread men, it was determined that they needed personalities before we ate them. I thought it was morbid, The Husband cheered them on. Some have bows and bow ties. Some have tap shoes, others are wearing overalls. One is a Mormon missionary (it felt a little strange to eat him). There is also a hairy Chubakka and the final decorated cookie is, and I quote, "filled with bullet holes from being shot".
Ah, warm fuzzy family moments.
Teenager #2 sat down to eat the Christmas cookies I had just brought home from the store. As she is dunking them in milk, she says, "I just looovvvveeee Christmas."
To which I replied, "Well, for mothers it's a rather stressful holiday."
She stopped eating and just starred at me.
And finally snorted and asked, "Why?"
Ah, yes, why indeed.
I think I'll ponder that one today. And for the next 13 days hereafter.
Oh, and probably in January too when I get my credit card statement.
Tis the season to be merry.