The Kid had a fabulous Christmas and is still basking in its glow. All of the battery operated toys have had to have battery replacements already. Well, except for one. Every year, my uncle chooses an electronic singing Christmassy gag present to send to my mom. This year, it was a bear with a santa hat and a somewhat disturbing undulating butt that sings "Shake Your Booty." Naturally, the children in my family found it fascinating. The adults all enjoyed it throughout the week, until there was one particularly long Shake Your Booty Marathon that made sure that that song will be indelibly etched in our minds. I've been completely unable to shake it [ew. see, I didn't mean for that pun to appear]. In future years, the children of our family will be asked, "What is your favorite Christmas Carol?" And they will answer "Shake Your Booty." At that moment, the devious laugh of my Uncle Bill will be heard, like a whisper, haunting the room.
I've developed a new-found paranoia regarding Santa Claus. Perhaps it because my niece, 9, is getting all analytical on us, and I fear the time is nigh for her. Thusfar, none of her questions have even gotten to The Kid. She interrogated him one evening about the wrapping paper that Santa had used in our house. He totally remembered, which surprised me. She had received a different paper. Hmmm.
Then, on Monday, The Kid I spent the day at my mom's house. This was an unplanned, day-long visit (lucky mom!), because I woke up on Monday morning to painter dudes on my balcony. This wasn't a complete surprise, as my HOA is currently repainting my building, but a situation that was less that perfect for my day off (robe, bad cable TV, and painter dudes looking in my condo. uncomfortable). So, to mom's we went. Mom, having turned a new leaf and enacting her resolution to organize her stuff in 2006, was cleaning out her closet when we arrived. Indeed, the same closet that I hid the wrapping paper that "Santa" had used to wrap The Kid's presents. This paper roll is still in my mom's closet when The Kid finds it, yells for us, and says, "Look! Santa and Meema have the same wrapping paper!!!" Freaking out, I just look at him, waiting for him to flash back to his conversation with my niece, to connect A to B, and for all of the fun of Christmas to fall to pieces in my mom's closet. Instead, The Kid says, "Meema knows all the good places to shop! Just like Santa." Phew.