We had a quiet Christmas morning. I made a breakfast of scrambled eggs and turkey bacon, during which I placed my baggy sweater too close to the gas flame and I saw this fiery poof race up my sleeve. I’m glad it was just my sleeve that suffered because I didn’t remember the whole “stop, drop and roll” until after I had stepped away from the stove and stopped yelling, “Oh! Oh! Oh!”
Nathan opened up his gifts from his aunts. He received two pairs of fleece pajamas from his godmother. My sister gave him a Thomas the Train puzzle that came in a tin train lunchbox. Nathan grabbed the box and went to the door, waving at us and saying, “Byeeeee!”
Good luck with your life, son. You and your empty lunch box. You and your transferable skills: alphabet recitation (save for “Q,” which he pronounces “deuce! deuce!”) and numbers (as of 12/08, he has mastered 2, 5, 8, 10. I guess he can do any 4-key tasks). You and your ability to retrieve the remote control from wherever Mommy points to.
Later that night, we carpooled with my brother and his family and drove up to Marysville to celebrate Christmas with the Andersons. My brother has known them longer than I have, but I’m glad to know them at all since every gathering at their house is filled with food and familia. There were so many people there that it was hard to find a seat and there were five people on the couch I was sitting on. It’s also heartwarming to be at a home where opening Christmas presents requires this disclaimer:
I received this awesome-sauce gift from my girl Di: A full-sized poster of Edward Cullen.
Mike’s asked me how long this is going to be at the top of the stairs. I say until he starts to love me the way a vampire would love me, meaning the hyper-romantic, unrealistic, borderline I WON’T BE IGNORED, DAN! kind of love that makes tween girls worldwide replace their entire vocabulary with a shrieking, “EDWARD! WOOOOOOO!” Including me. I would totally “wooo!” along with these girls, which is why this poster is staying where it is, welcoming me home every time I walk through the door.
Have you recovered from Christmas yet?