Friday, December 25, 2009

Christmas Log -- 2009

Christmas Log 2009.



Christmas Eve -- 12/24



12:33 pm -- Just overheard 13 year old daughter tell the 2 year old, "If I could call you Mr. Tinkles and fit you in my handbag, I would, Mr. Tinkles."

2:04 pm -- Denied a Green Machine in childhood b/c she thought her parents were poor and didn't want to humiliate them for asking for such a thing (turns out corporate lawyers make good money -- so why the velcro briefcase and Ford Escort without second gear? -- is now fulfilled. Green Machine. Check.

2:33 -- Dave eats pepper, suffers 4 spastic hiccups, puffed lips, feels like Angelina Jolie.



3:12 -- Dave fears peppers on hands, can't pick nose. Phoebe still calling 2yo Mr. Tinkles. He's now responding to it regularly. Low on pants as Floridians, 2 year old has, in fact, peed through all of his pants. Back in shorts.



4:40 -- Dave informs me that he has bought fake tattoos for everyone for the Christmas photo. A man with a vision.



5:59 -- What led to the explosion? Well, I'll start with my bootie. I like it warm. So I put it up to the oven and accidentally upped the temp to 500 degrees. Dave came running in from the shower in his towel b/c he thought things smelled burnt. "What? Burnt? Everything's fine." I was now sitting on the floor, leaning against the oven to keep my back warm. I scooted so he could check. He saw the temp, the slightly blackened chicken, got water to juice it up again. Water hits Pyrex. Pyrex explodes. Glass flies through the air -- the oven filled with shards. It's all quiet and sizzly. Dave panting in his towel. Me, a little baffled, but still warm. My 13 year old son says, "Asian restaurant, anyone? Fa ra ra ra ra ra ra ra ra raaaaa." (Quoting the film ... need I tell you?)



6:42 -- And then ... there was a Christmas Pizza miracle.



6:55 -- One of the kids says, "Dad, there's a Christmas miracle going on in the toilet that you need to fix!"



7:57 -- We go out to see the lights get caught in a downpour and then a Baptist church parking lot full of anxious Baptists.



8:40 -- Have fully exploited the kid who likes to wrap.



8:44 -- Dave is not getting the canary yellow '75 T-Top Stingray Corvette for sale on Mills St. -- anyone else? 6k. (I said that you could buy wells in Africa for that. And Phoebe says, "If we're not getting the Corvette, you should put your money where your mouth is and buy some African wells then!"



8:52 - We kept talking about the exploding Pyrex, and the 2 year old finally asks if "the pirates are really mean." For the past so many hours, he's thought we had exploding pirates in the kitchen. Sometimes I just think -- what's his world like?



9:22 -- After long discussions with two year old, he now says Santa can come. It took a lot of convincing that Santa really just wants to break into our home to give us things. (He's a very jaded two and a half.) But we've now agreed: Santa, just put the gifts down and back away. And no one will get hurt.



12/25/09 Christmas DAY.



9:08 am -- When one of the kids confused "Eucharist" with 3rd baseman "Youkilis" during the scavenger hunt clues, it was made clear that I've fallen on my Catholic duties, but we're raising devout Red Sox fans.


10:12 am-- Feeling the urge to engage in some kind of pick-up game -- family against family -- to verify our dominance.


10:15 am -- The two year old really did want a vacuum cleaner. (In honor of Dave's fallen canary yellow Corvette wish, the vacuum is canary yellow -- but not '75 nor T-top.)