Sung to the tune of Jingle Bells:
Four more days, four more days, there are four more days…
Then I’m on vacation and the kids will go away, hey!
I’m kidding. Mostly. The dynamics have shifted with the departure of Luna, for sure. I expected to be answering the “where’s LUNA?” question a million times a day, but it hasn’t come up once. Louis and Pixie are playing together more intentionally, creating fairly complex games, and I notice that Louis is asking me fewer extroverted look-at-me questions.
I have no idea why taking Luna out of the equation has made such a difference – she didn’t play with them much, anyway. But there it is.
We went shopping for our Christmas jammies last night. Boy, there was not much left. Note to self: next year, buy Christmas jammies in October. In the end the kids got fuzzy red jammie-pants & regular shirts in slightly bigger sizes, but why can you not buy festive pajamas for kids the week before Christmas? The women’s section had racks and racks of the things. Annoying.
I made my annual this-is-the-only-batch-you’re-getting Best Christmas Sugar Cookies, Ever on Sunday night. They are disappearing at a gratifying but alarming rate. I think I’ll have to make another batch this weekend. I was planning on them for dessert with Christmas dinner – combined with homemade eggnog, which I’m going to try for the first time. At this rate, I won’t have any left. Last night after dinner we all had tea (chai for the kids), sitting around our dining room with cookies. The kids fastidiously dipped their cookies in their tea before each bite. It was wretchedly adorable. So adorable that I will make another batch of the cookies, even though I have to do it after everyone is in bed because the key ingredient in the sticky finicky things is swearwords.
One weird thing about the Internet is how certain random shit will enter the zeitgeist, consume everyone’s attention for a while, and then disappear without leaving a trace. Last December, everyone was talking about brining turkeys and whether or not “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” is date-rapey.
For the record, I will not be trucking to Home Depot to buy a bucket large enough to soak a 16lb turkey in, and I find Baby, It’s Cold Outside to be a delightfully cheeky song that gets stuck in my head for days. (Oh, except for the version recorded by a local musician and his daughter, which is frankly just weird & kind of squicky, but gets lots of airplay this time of year on Halifax commercial radio.)
This year, I’ve heard not a squeak about either thing. Probably because everyone is all pissed off about Instagram. I’m just laughing, because I only upgraded to FlickrPro about three months ago, and now those hipsters who were all “But why don’t you have a smartphone? INSTAGRAM!!” are panicking and deleting their accounts. Heh.
It’s very windy and damp outside today, which is too bad, because these wired pre-Christmas children are systematically destroying my house. Time to make them clean up and then perhaps we’ll do some colouring. I just don’t have it in me to do anything more elaborate.