I’m sitting here wracking my brain to come up with something clever to write about, and I can only smile because I’m watching Pierce out of the corner of my eye. Daddy is playing some old Nintendo racing game that is amusing the boys, and Pierce is standing with one foot resting on the other, leaning over on the coffee table, and acting like he’s “too cool for school.” He’s also, at the appropriate intervals, rooting on dad’s racing skills and offering unintelligible advice. It’s pretty funny—it’s like when you turn the volume down on the tv and make up a dialog that looks like what the people might be saying.
Now, Mikey is coaching dad on how to navigate the track on the game—“Make sure that you don’t fall through any holes or you’ll hit the earth.” (The track is a rainbow in outer space with Earth in the background.) “Daddy, be careful! Be careful, Daddy! Daddy?” “Just do really good this time. Just do it right, Daddy—try to fly the motorcycle, Daddy.” Now it’s “Mommy, is that Earth? Mommy is that where we live? How old is Earth, Mommy? “(me)About 4 billion years old. “Is Earth big?” He’s too much!
I wrapped all the Christmas presents yesterday that I have purchased so far, and I never dreamed that being so fabulously prepared would come back to bite me on the a$$. Holy Cow!!! My wrapping already looks somewhat tattered and the bows are squished because SOMEBODY can’t leave them alone. Mikey has taken to trying to figure out which ones are for him. Pretty much any gift that has a name on it that starts with “M” must be his. Sorry, Mom D., looks like Mikey’s getting some Bath and Bodyworks stuff for Christmas instead of you! I sense some sneaky-peeking happening in the near future. Then I decided to put “From Santa” on all the kids’ gifts for Christmas Morning, when I realized that SOMEBODY is learning to read. How we were going to explain that Santa has stopped by with some of the gifts already. After great conspiring with Dad, we decided to tell Mikey that Santa has so many gifts to deliver on Christmas, he, often times, will UPS some of them to the homes of good little children ahead of time. So far, he’s buying it! AND, I can still use the leverage that Santa won’t bring anymore gifts if the boys aren’t on good behavior, AND, if they are really naughty, I can UPS them back to Santa!!! HaHa!!!!
In the meantime, at least 500 times a day, Michael asks me “Is Christmas almost here? How long until Christmas? How many days? (28) How many weeks? (4) Four is not long, so Christmas will be here in four days? (no, four weeks.) Will Christmas be here in a couple of days or a few days? (several) Is it really far away? (It’s relative…) When is Christmas? I really, really, really want Christmas to get here because I really, really want to open my presents! Can I open just one now?” I guess I need to get a Christmas Calender so he can have something tangible to understand the concept of days. Otherwise, I will likely go insane before the 25th from the relentless bludgeoning of redundant questions and trying to come up with the answer that will finally end the questioning. Santa, help me remember to behave myself!