I don’t mean to brag, but I’m fairly certain that I’m accomplishing all of my goals for Christmas Break.
Namely, I can now see the floor in our walk-in closet, because I’ve kept the washing machine in a state of perpetual motion, which scientists claim is impossible to achieve.
(The claim is that perpetual motion is impossible to achieve; not that I couldn’t accomplish all of the laundry. I thought I should be clear. But, in all honesty, I think us having empty laundry baskets at our house is exactly the same amount of science fiction as an object that moves indefinitely on its own power.)
(The laundry piles and I have our issues together.)
I’ve also managed to pass one of the most difficult levels of Candy Crush on my phone that I’ve ever tackled. It took me ten days of dedication, but crush it, I did. I was alone when it happened, which was sad, because I really felt the need to TELL SOMEONE about my victory. Kicking the snot out of a level of colored candy tidbits that has taken you EONS to achieve really needs someone to smack you a decent high-five. Just whispering, “Yes!” out loud to yourself isn’t the same. I walked around our house for a good ten minutes, with my chest all puffed up, because WINNER, WINNER, WINNER! And then the deflation settled in, because WHO REALLY CARES?
And why am I wasting precious moments of my life playing this dumb game?
Plus, Hubs and I finished all the seasons of Last Man Standing, and we kind of feel like our best friends have moved away. We’re going to miss Mike and Vanessa Baxter, until the next season is dumped into Netflix and we can rejoin our nighttime addiction of laughing our heads off at them.
Clearly, my goals for this vacation were simple. Nothing says BEST END TO THE YEAR EVER like staying at home for days on end, wearing your pajamas without washing your hair during the daytime hours, and having a closet so full of clean clothes, you find it difficult to actually decide WHAT SHOULD I WEAR TODAY? You know, in the event that I would actually change out of my pajamas and shower and use the hot rollers?
Now, with all of that said, we have just gotten home from taking the boys to see Alvin and the Chipmunks, Episode 698 at the movie theater. (Oh, I kid, people. I have no idea if there have been six hundred ninety-eight episodes of these singing chipmunks, but I feel like there probably is, considering that one of my favorite LPs as a child was Chipmunk Punk. Those rodents have been around for a while.) But, early this afternoon, Sister announced that she was taking her kids to see the singing chipmunks, and then our friend Jodi confirmed that she was going as well. Since my boys had heard these big plans of everyone else, I felt like it would’ve been cheating them out of a rite of passage of childhood to deny them this movie.
So… we went.
We snagged Cousin A, too, and all of us packed ourselves into three rows of seats at the theater. We said our prayers about Thing 2 making it clear to the end without having a normal three-year-old meltdown of boredom. I bought him popcorn and M&Ms and 7-Up, so he basically thought he was gorging at the buffets in Heaven, because MAMA DON’T LET HIM EAT LIKE THAT AT HOME. And, I’m happy to report that the preschooler did JUST FINE, and all of the singing and disco balls and electric guitar sounds kept him captivated, when the M&Ms ran dry.
And then we came home, where he promptly threw up brown M&M sludge all over his bedroom floor, because WHO LET HIM EAT ALL THAT JUNK AT ONCE?! Cousin A was a bit shocked, as she hollered out, “Um… So… Yeah… HE JUST THREW UP!” That’s what happens when his mother lets him hunker down with a family-sized box of candy and popcorn and soda.
I believe the hashtag you’re looking for is THIS AIN’T THE MOTHER OF THE YEAR.
I don’t have scads of time tonight, because my un-napped three-year-old keeps flopping onto the floor with his blanket, announcing that he’s just going to SLEEP FOR A TINY BIT. This is not allowed at 6 PM at our house, because MeMaw needs to get her old self in bed by 8:30 these days, if she has any hopes of functioning the following morning. A 6 PM nap taken by the preschooler will keep her up way beyond her bedtime, so I need to challenge our youngster to JUST STAY AWAKE A LITTLE LONGER, AND YOU CAN HAVE MORE M&Ms TOMORROW.
Except I’m banking on the fact that he’ll forget about that promise by the time he wakes up at 5:30 in the morning.
He’s looking a healthy protein shake and fruit square in the face for breakfast, because THE CONCESSION STAND GOODIES ARE OVER, BROTHER.
So, I’ll just quickly recap a few Christmas pictures this evening, before I head off to tickle my kid and keep him awake for a bit longer here. Obviously, nothing says BLOG ENJOYMENT like dragging out the Christmas posts over three or four nights. Geez. Just get it done already.
So, without further ado, I give y’all Christmas Morning at Casa del Jedi.
Thing 2, after an exhausting Christmas Eve day, slept in until 6:30 on Christmas morning, because OF COURSE. I won’t lie; this was all fine and dandy with me, because I slept in until 6:30, too, and at our house, 6:30 AM might as well be brunch time, we’re so used to getting up with the roosters.
The boy would’ve slept until noon, had he not provided us with specific instructions the night before of, “Please wake me up when Thing 2 gets up; I don’t want to sleep through Christmas morning.”
Only someone living the teenage lifestyle would be able to say that sentence out loud.
The boys opened their gifts from each other and from us at our house.
Are these curls not THE FINEST THINGS you’ve ever seen?
The boys found a few necessary gifts beneath our tree, tucked in with a few fun gifts. The boy was in desperate need of long-sleeved shirts for the cold days of winter, so — regardless of the fact that he’d rather chew a strand of barbed wire than get clothing as a gift — he got to open a big box of shirts.
He had been told that he’d need to save his own dollars to replace his broken smart phone, which still worked fine. The back of it had been separating from the front, and Mama DID worry a bit about possible electrocution during use, but she was firm that he’d need to buy his own replacement phone.
And then boom!
Christmas struck, and he was blessed.
Thing 2’s stockpile of gifts included cars and trucks and tractors, because those are his love languages.
They’re Linus’s security blanket in our house.
He’s carried them around since he was literally nine months old. We call them his boys, and we’re fairly certain that Little Man will graduate from high school with a boy in his hand when he walks across the stage in his cap and gown. Our little Linus carries them everywhere, and his favorite boys are the NEWER ones, who haven’t been loved and crushed so much that they have lost all their FLUFFINESS.
For Christmas, the boy bought Thing 2 a new package of boys, and… hands down… it was his favorite gift. He actually had to stop opening presents for a bit, to go lie down on his bed and rub them across his forehead.
Judge if you like, but it’s THE CUTEST THING OF EVER.
And then our church does a program called Prayer Pals. In this, an adult is assigned to a child, and he or she prays over that kiddo and for that kiddo for the next years to come. Thing 2’s Prayer Pal is a wonderful friend of ours named Lisa.
Miss Lisa thinks it’s funny when she sees Thing 2 hauling Lucky Charms around in his tractor and dumping them on my living room floor, so she wrapped up THE BIGGEST BOX of the cereal you have EVER seen in your entire life.
The. Biggest. Box.
The box that could feed an entire summer camp full of children.
And then she gave him a plastic candy cane filled with M&Ms. You can see how much he enjoyed THAT gift in this next snapshot:
If my small fry wasn’t trying to fall asleep on the floor right now, I’d keep going with pictures, so consider yourselves lucky…
… until hundreds of snapshots show up on the blog tomorrow evening that you have to wade your way through.
Happy Wednesday, y’all.