We go several places over the Christmas holiday and it's only natural that the kids get confused sometimes as to where we're heading. Last night was our schtick with Dad. For those who don't know, Mom and Dad aren't married anymore and haven't been for like 15 years. The kids call my mom Grammy and my stepmom Grandma.
On the way over to Dad's last night Bub asked Tater if Mom was cooking on Christmas Eve. Tater said, "Yeah, she's making meatballs and a bunch of other stuff." TotOne knew they were headed to Pepaw's, but I guess she didn't hear Bub say "Christmas Eve" when he asked Tater the question. From the backseat, a very confused TotOne goes, "Woah. Woah!" Tater and Bub looked back at her and Tater asked,"What's wrong, TotOne?" The reply from the child was, "This could be a problem! Grammy and Pepaw aren't married anymore!"
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This morning for the first time in what seems like ages, the kids and I slept in. When Mr. Diva left for work, I crawled back in bed after he kissed me on the forehead and held the sheets up for me to scoot back under them. Ahhh ... blissful sleeping in. I finally dragged my lazy, self up at 9:22, my back sore from sleeping entirely too long, and headed to the kitchen to make a pitcher of tea and get the cookie dough out of the fridge so it could soften up. Sam was already bouncing around the house like Flubber on crack, so I told him to unload the silverware out of the dishwasher thinking it would occupy his hyperactive brain for awhile. The girls were on their beds reading so I hollered at them to come up front. While I had all three in front of me I said, "Abby I need you to fold all the blankets in the living room and Kady you need to empty the bathroom trashes." Of course, they both sighed and dramatically acted like they were dying at the mere thought of chores on Christmas Eve. How dare I? After resisting the urge to jackslap them all into Christmas comas, I explained, "Kids, tonight we are going to Grammy's and when we come home we will be bringing a buttload of new toys. Then tonight Santa comes and he'll be bringing another buttload of new toys. We have GOT to get this house straightened up today, okay?"
So everyone hatefully went about their chores while I started a load of laundry. Little did I know that Kady actually went back to her bed to finish her book. A few minutes later she came skidding into the kitchen with book in hand and said, "MOM!! Look! It's a picture of Santa with a butthole of new toys!!"
I was born a semi-diva. I married a redneck. Through the magic of osmosis or just because of a serious lack of sophistication over the years I have found a balance of the two that make me who I am today. And then I write about it all, much to the chagrin of my mother.
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1 comment:
"A butthole of toys" indeed! I hope Santa does not have an overactive colon. It will be raining toys.
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