Happy Holidays...Finally!

Since it’s officially December, I am now allowed to talk about Christmas.  I love love love love this holiday.  I love pretty much everything about it and tolerate the things I don't.  I am so very excited to celebrate with The Boy as he is one year older and more aware of things and just fun all the way around.  There are some draw-backs though…

1.   The Christmas Tree is “his.”  Regardless that WE the parents paid for it, or Juanito trimmed it and put it in the tree stand or that we put the vast majority of the decorations on it, it is his.  My tree.  That’s all we’ve heard about since Friday when Juanito, in preparation of going to get the tree, told him we were getting a tree for him.  Apparently this assumed ownership means he can hit “his tree” whenever the need strikes him.  Now that it is decorated we are attempting to stop this.  Good luck with that. 

2.   He is like a bull in a china closet.  Juanito’s mother has given us ornaments every year since we moved in together.   The last two Christmases the glass ornaments have not seen the light of day out of concern that it might get knocked off the tree.  Perhaps we should have practiced the same discretion when opening the other ornaments.  The Garfield ornaments that Juanito brought into this marriage are now in the garbage.  I found a Garfield foot in Santa’s sleigh and Odie’s head on the steps. The Hallmark collector's ornaments we've had will need to visit the super glue doctor. Two minutes after being given the motorcycle I hear Juanito, “Dude, you’re like a bull in a china closet, give it to me.”  We have now began the mantra “Look with your eyes not your hands” Again, good luck with that.  

3.   We introduced our Elf on the Shelf.  Her name is Alice.  The Boy could really care less because I made the fatal mistake of introducing her while eating cake and ice cream after we finished decorating our his tree.  He was waaay more excited about his “cream” than Santa, a stalker-y girl-elf or the fact that Mom is reading a book to him in her yelling voice.  “Cream” ended up on a number things, one being his precious Winnie (which is the name of his security blanket).  When I saw the brown spots this morning and figured out it was just chocolate ice cream I felt a little bit of defeat since we fought through the washing AND drying of Winnie but here she is, dirty.  Dirty, dirty Winnie.  Perhaps if we had named the girl-elf Winnie we would have had more of a response????