This is the happy family pre-Christmas tree assembly. You can tell Becks is already preparing for the worst...
Good afternoon, everyone. I am feeling better, and thank you for your many kind words of comfort and joy as I recover from intestinal hell.
There are a couple of things you should know, first off. Mainly that I returned to school today to find that the Christmas crazies had swapped my kindergarten class out for a bunch of yahoos. No, seriously, yahoos. Tomorrow I plan to threaten them with the Wrath of Coal, and how that's all they're going to find under the Christmas tree if they don't WATCH IT RIGHT NOW, MISTER.
So, that was fun. If you consider fun a pack of 5- and 6-year-olds talking, talking, talking while you're trying to teach, teach, teach. Because it is far more fun to play rock, paper, scissors, marker rather than listen to The Cajun Cornbread Boy (a sweet take on the popular Gingerbread Boy, if you're familiar). And who knew that the standard rock, paper, scissors game had now added an additional writing utensil? News to me. Though I would call it rock, paper, scissors, fine tip Sharpie if it were me. Just saying.
Speaking of fine tip Sharpies, I was planning to hand-address all thousand or so of our annual Christmas card - which is usually one of my favorite holiday hobbies since it involves me penning names and addresses in a variety of fonts and colors - but I think I'm going the completely impersonal route and turning an Excel spreadsheet into mailing labels. So sue me. There isn't a whole lot of time left hanging about around these parts, and what time is available I try to spend do things that require little brain matter, like scouring People for the latest RPatt pics. I kid. Or not.
While I have decorated for Christmas around Chez Babbling, I have yet to unfurl the nasty beast that is the artificial evergreen waiting for its annual release from its box in the basement. The warning on that box should not be that it contains small pieces that children could choke on (it probably doesn't say that though, since no child I know could fit twelve inches of prickly tree limb into his mouth without someone noticing), but instead that marital discord during assembly is inevitable.
And if y'all don't know what I'm talking about then you've for sure never assembled a seven foot tree with your spouse. And if you've seriously created the ideal process where both husband and wife can peaceably coexist during this feat, then publish a book and I'll buy it. Because never before, in our extensive 3.5 years of marriage (this being our fourth Christmas) have we ever put together an artificial Christmas tree without one spouse whispering under his/her breath that doesn't go there while the other tries to jab twelve inches of prickly tree limb into the absolute wrong place but is too proud to remove it so we have an awkward looking limb sticking out all misplaced for the duration of the Christmas season. Again, I kid.
So once the tree's up, I guess we'll call it a jolly holiday and move onto something more fun like baking gingerbread men or something. Which I am actually doing tonight, in hopes that the-class-formerly-known-as-kindergareteners will get to decorate tomorrow at the conclusion of our gingerbread unit. However, I did STAND ON A CHAIR (I was going for dramatic) today, to preach about good behavior and how I'M NOT EVEN ONE BIT SCARED to take away that fun activity if their behavior doesn't warrant it. I. Am. So. Mean.
Anyway, tomorrow's Friday, y'all, and that is a reason to do a little happy dance while you listen to Charlie Brown's Christmas on Pandora. Or you could play rock, paper, scissors, marker with your spouse and the loser has to put up the Christmas tree alone. Whatever suits your fancy.