I know I said I was going to stop counting, and I am, really. It's just that 1001 is so delightfully palindrome-ish. Although I don't think the word palindrome is applied to numbers usually, but WHATEVER, it's my site.
Moving on.
Good morning, duckies! And a very happy Friday to you. I would like to bring something to your attention today that just occurred to me this morning: Christmas is in a week.
I'm sure many of you are already aware of this fact, and technically I was too. But it still managed to kind of sneak up on me. I mean, really. A week? How in the hell did THAT happen? What happened to November? And half of December? This baby thing is messing with my concept of time.
We finally went to get our Christmas tree last weekend* and I managed to get it in the stand a couple of days ago. But now it's just sitting there, all naked and forlorn, awaiting a time when we're all home to actually decorate the thing. Maybe tonight. If it's lucky. I did finally manage to get to a store to purchase some stocking stuffers for the MiL (on Santa's orders, of course--I am but an obedient elf) when I was in the Small City on Tuesday for Cubby's flu shot.
But speaking of Cubby, his parents aren't getting him anything for Christmas this year.
GRINCHY.
I know. But he's ten months old, people. He has no concept of presents; he just wants to play with the delightfully crinkly wrapping paper. So we're taking advantage of the last year he's not going to expect anything for Christmas except our unending love and attention, with which he is showered every day of the year. Plus, I gave that kid the gift of life, so I think I'm entitled to a pass this year.
Anyway, I just bought him a large-sized sleep sack so he doesn't have to get stuffed into a too-small one every night, so I'll call that his Christmas present. What more could any child want, really?
So how are your holiday preparations coming? All done, all panicked, or all shocked that Christmas is in a week? (A week! I know!)
* I was going to tell you that story, but it really just went like this: Rainrainrain, slogging through half-melted snow to cut our little tree, rainrainrain, stuff the little tree in the trunk of the car because the truck was temporarily out of commission, drive home in the rainrainrain. FESTIVE!
8 comments:
Smart on the gift thing. Too many parents go nuts the first Christmas and buy tons of crap that is in the landfill by the next Christmas. All Cubby wants for Christmas in Mommy and milk supply close at hand and he has that. Merry Christmas Cubby!
He'll be thrilled to stare at the tree and the pretty lights! He doesn't need fancy presents. He has lots of love and a wonderful home.
Sadie detested each and every toy her grandparents INSISTED on buying her last Christmas (when she was 8 months old). This year promises to be much more fun - she played with a toy teapot at her cousin's house last month and STILL talks about it. It is the prime tool in my toddler negotiation arsenal. ("Good girls who brush their teeth get teapots.") I KNOW! I never thought I'd do that, but...here we are.
I think Cubby would be satisfied forever with just your love and attention.
I wonder , if he never got gifts, would he care? He just seems so content with life.
Beth
Perhaps you should let him unwrap everyone else's gift? That way he would get plenty of wrapping to play with.
Ha ha. GRINCHY? or REALISTIC! No need for Christmas junk when you've got parents cool enough to let you play in the wrapping paper! Maybe you could start a tradition of re-wrapping a family member with all of the paper as the night goes on? This year can be Cubby's year. :) I kid, I kid.
Really though... sparkly ribbon and bows have got to be waaaay cool to a little brain :)
I was just retelling the first year our son celebrated Christmas. We got him toys and clothes. He loved the boxes more then any thing he got. We sat there like fools trying to get him interested in the toys - he wasn't having any of it. So you aren't Grinchy you are SMART!!
A week?! Ugh, it snuck up on me too!
Must go shopping now... grrrr.
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