Wednesday, December 26, 2007
The rain cleared away most of our snow, then we got a light powder dusting after it froze. Consequently? Sledding hills that are slick and hard and bumpy. Team Testosterone got for Christmas? New sleds. Forecast until this weekend when we leave for Iowa for the in-law festivities? Clear and sunny. Snow on Friday. Sigh.
On a happy note, there was almost NO assembly required this holiday and we had all the necessary batteries for the new toys. (Unlike last year when I crept with Ninja-like stealth into the boys' bedroom at 11 p.m. Christmas Eve to filch four size D batteries out of a toy I hoped they'd ignore until I could make it to the hardware store sometime AFTER Christmas.) And there was minimal untwisting of those blasted wires that hold packaging in place during the boat ride from China to America.
Cool highlights of this year's holiday?
* Leaving the human gridlock at church at 2:40 Christmas Eve afternoon and returning at 6:00 to discover no lines and only a couple hundred other people. And peace and quiet so I could spend a moment reflecting on the best Christmas gift, wrapped in swaddling clothes and placed in a feeding trough for cattle two thousand years ago.
* Mr. G pauses while playing with his new Hot Wheels racetrack and thanks me for all the Christmas presents. Out of the blue.
* All 3 boys spend Christmas day playing with their new spy gear, Nerf guns and remote-control toys--without whining, fighting or discontent.
* Our beloved babysitter gave Mr. D and I a gift card to Olive Garden with a promise of free babysitting the night we use it. Totally unexpected and completely reflective of her generous and sweet nature.
* The oven that burnt our homemade Christmas Eve pizzas worked just fine after I cleaned it later that night. The result? Perfectly baked Christmas morning caramel rolls without calling the repairman who'd charge us $75 just to "take a look at it."
* Mr. T didn't mind not getting a video game system from Santa, even though he asked for one. ('Cuz if I spend $600.00 on him when he's EIGHT, what on earth does one do when he's TWELVE? Just sayin'.)
Heart overflowing, debris cleared away into one tall kitchen-sized garbage bag, and bedside table freshly stocked with brand-new reading material, I feel CONTENT and HAPPY and almost look forward to Mr. T's EEG tomorrow morning. (What says Christmas Vacation to an eight-year-old more than spending quality time in a hospital room with wires hooked up all over your scalp?)