Boom! I’m Knocking Out The Christmas Lists Early!

Listen.

Between the big pot of homemade stew that I made for dinner tonight and embracing the fact that my toddler is old enough to vacuum now and the fact that HEAR YE!  HEAR YE!  BOOM!  OUR CHRISTMAS CARDS ARE DONE AND ORDERED, it has been a very busy day.

Because yes.  I don’t mean to brag, but our Christmas card order has been placed, and WHAT IS THIS?  NOT EVEN THANKSGIVING?!  And also, WHO IS THIS GIRL, BEING ALL ORGANIZED AND EVERYTHING LIKE SHE’S CAROL BRADY OR SOMETHING?  It’s because I snapped some pictures of my boys last Saturday morning, when it was sixty degrees and still fall.  I’ve lived in Small Town, USA long enough to know that when the weatherman says that we need to wave goodbye to sixty and welcome in the WINTER WEATHER ADVISORY and the WINDCHILLS THAT MAKE YOUR FACE HURT, I’d better drag out the heavy coats and snowboots.  And so I took advantage of the last bit of precious fall weather we had, and I rummaged around in the boys’ closets until I found a couple of shirts that would coordinate well together.  I was determined that the recipients of our holiday cards would see two boys whose mother OBVIOUSLY has her act together, because ARE THOSE SHIRTS IRONED?  I was trying to give off an  image of CLASSY, instead of WE LIVE IN A VAN, DOWN BY THE RIVER.

I took a thousand snapshots of my boys sitting on a bench in a field of tall grass a week ago, in their perfectly-ironed, color-coordinated shirts.

And the next day it snowed.

And the day after that our windchills dipped into the negative temperatures, and I announced to Hubs that I am DEFINITELY moving to Arizona this winter, and my Suburban told me that she really wants to be placed in a nursing home, because these frigid temperatures are more than even she can bare now.

And then I realized that out of one thousand pictures, I had exactly six where Thing 2 was looking at the camera and the boy didn’t blink or scowl, because children are precious.  But six is five more than I needed, because low!  I just needed one good shot, and I think I found it.  And then my friend, Susan, who knows PhotoShop as well as I know all the characters on Raising Hope, said she’d help me create our family’s card again this year, and now… here it is… ONLY the middle of November, and I feel like I’ve had a major box checked off of my holiday to-do list.

Also?  Why are you still reading this?

I feel like this post is about as interesting as my grocery list is.

Anyway.

I did tell Thing 2 to say, “Cheese” for the camera this morning, and he actually cooperated very nicely, because LOOK!

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(I think these pictures are so stinking cute, they make my heart ache.  Because?  I love that little stinker to pieces.)

Sadly, Thing 2 didn’t grin anywhere near that well in the picture I used for our Christmas cards.

It’s because that’s how my luck runs.

I feel like he should have a halo above his head in THESE snapshots, because they’re just THAT CUTE.  I mean… SERIOUSLY!  Do we have some cute boys, or what?!

And then I took him to the indoor playland at our local rec center this afternoon, because someone needed to RUN!  RUN LITTLE BOY!  As we were getting out of our Suburban, I asked him, “How do we play at Playland?”  And Thing 2 responded, “We don’t hit grills.”

(And no… that’s NOT a typo.  Thing 2 pronounces “girls” as “grills,” every.  single.  time.)

I told him, “Right.  We don’t hit girls.  Why not?”

I was hoping for a magnificent answer that was going to make me think my toddler was going to be the next great kind-hearted philosopher or compassionate social worker.  I wanted him to restate to me all the times I’ve worked with him on how we are nice to our friends, and how we use VERY GENTLE HANDS.

But then he said, “Because grills cry.  Poor babies.”

And that explains why, after the homemade stew was polished off, I had an iced Raz-Ber-Ita… the margarita with a twist.

Y’all have a merry Monday evening.

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