Every holiday around our house inspires some memorable head-shaking that brings to mind lines from favorite Christmas songs. In addition to my brush with zombie rats, plenty of contenders "sleighed" me, like:
Our resident angel from on high, Miss America, came down and addressed a sofa full of wassailing out-of-towners. "Want to know what the new baby is doing?" She sighed, screwed up her mouth in disgust, and rolled her eyes. "She's trying to suck on my mom's boob." O come let us adore her . . .- The overhead lights in our kitchen went out. The Three Wise Men of the family gathered beneath them as one after the other stood on the island and attempted to remove the frosted plastic cover from the fixture. After much ado, they couldn't remove it. Naturally, this begs the question, how many men does it take to change a light bulb? While These Three Kings took their special gifts to another crib of worship (aka, our garage for beer pong and darts), my daughter TG mounted the island and popped that sucker right out. Joy to the Girls, the boys are dumb.
- My dad, he with the Santa belly, walked through the living room and sneezed explosively. Ho ho ho, his pants dropped to his ankles. Thankfully, I did not see the South Pole. Jump in bed and cover your head . . .
- Six-year-old elf extraordinaire, JazzyB, was dissatisfied with our holiday decorations. She took matters into her own hands by completely undressing a dozen Barbies and Kens and lining them up in the manger that is her elfin workshop, depicting her version of the nativity scene. Or an orgy. Or a firing squad. The world in solemn stillness lay . . .
Three-year-old drummer boy, Destructo, stood at the toilet peeing while his mother supervised. He looked over his shoulder while pointing to his drumstick. "My peep big," he said. "Right, Mom?" Officially becoming the first woman in his life to protect his holy ego, she replied, "Um, sure, baby." Then he smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum.
