electric boogaloo

This year was weird, but in many ways it was perfect. We begged everyone to scale back the hoopla and the gift giving, and most people did. The focus was on visiting with family and eating and watching the kids run around and argue over each other’s gifts, which is what the season is really about.

On Friday Nicolaus went to see Santa, who this year was kind of a silent cowboy Santa. He looked the part but didn’t have much to say. And Nicolaus said exactly nothing to him. No words. Nothing. Graham sat on his lap for fifteen seconds, and then started to gear up for a good “What in the fuck is wrong with you people” howl. And then we left.

Me and Nicolaus McGee leaving Santa’s Workshop at Firewheel Mall.

At the Santa place we bought a pound of fudge, which if you aren’t Christian and anyone ever asks you to explain why you bother to celebrate Christmas, I highly recommend holiday fudge as your complete answer. Although really, without the system of religious-based morality in place I’m not sure what’s stopping you from eating fudge for every single meal, every day of every year.

My brother James is in town, which is always awesome. His luggage was stolen out of the back of my mom’s car, which isn’t awesome. He’s sick over it. Favorite jeans, favorite shirts, favorite camoflauge baseball hat which I can’t figure out but whatever, two books about slums of the world and other socialistish concerns, and his journal filled with sketches, ideas, notes, and other things not easy to replace. Sucks. His special lady friend told him it was his Buddhist Christmas present because now travelling back will be easier, and posessions can be stressful. True. But even the best Buddhists like having clean underwear when they travel.

But everyone was in a pretty good mood on Christmas Eve. We ate good food and stayed up too late visiting on in front of the crackling fire DVD on my parents’ big-screen TV because like most people they are insane and do things like tear down their fireplace to put a built-in entertainment center. My grandmother gave the boys a subscription to National Geographic, Nicolaus’ dream of a perfect magazine. Lava and whales and knives all in one magazine? Oh yes. They also got a non-robotic toy horse, a set of foam blocks, a huge enormous book about the UNIVERSE, a radio flyer ride-on rocket ship that is awesomely cute, and a few books and DVDs.

Then cowboy Santa brought gifts: a wind-up lantern for Nicolaus and a bunch of little tweeting stuffed animal birds for Graham, which were all fittingly purchased at the last minute at the Bass Pro Shop which I’m positive would be the ultimate cowboy Santa headquarters. We lazed around while Kevin cooked a turkey dinner and it was all very yummy and happy and wonderful and magical because I didn’t have to cook it. The kids ate their body weight in corn on the cob and I hearby propose that in America we invent a holiday like Boxing Day but instead of Boxing Day we’ll call it Corn Poop Diaper Day.

Two other highlights I don’t want to forget to mention:
1. I never expected to receive Christmas cards from the internet! What a cool surprise. Thank you thank you!

2. Squirl sent the boys some things because she is crazy and nice in a way that I mysteriously do not find at all creepy. Nicolaus opened his bag and said, “Oh WOW! How did she know that I’m obsessed with dinosaurs? And she even knew I love cars!”

Um, gosh sweetie, I don’t know! It’s a Christmas miracle! Hush now, Mama’s trying to watch The Truman Show.

3. (Edited to add) If you have to ask yourself whether or not your child is ready to handle Night at the Museum, the answer is no. The movie will scare the holy living crap out of him, he will yell with fear AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! throughout almost every scene, and he will finally ask you to take him the hell home 45 minutes into it and then you’ll never find out what happens with Ben Stiller and that science nerd lady and whether Robin Williams gets with Sacagawea and whether the monkey character is ever fully fleshed out beyond the typical hollywood 2-dimensional depiction of a mischevious primate. And your kid will sleep with you for what I’m assuming will be many, many nights because a T.Rex is chasing him into your bed.

I hope your holidays were wonderful. Happy Corn Poop Diaper Day to you all!