You don't know how lucky you are.
This is normally the time of year when I turn into Scrooge and start dissecting everything that drives me crazy about the holidays. I started a handful of blogs about the agony of Christmas shopping and the presents for Cheeky multiplying like tribbles under our tree. I had a petulant rant about holiday parties worked up, and another one on ubiquitous "very special" episodes of TV shows designed to deliver "a message" or "the true meaning of Christmas," usually involving a special appearance by a homeless character or Santa (occasionally embodied in the same person).
But the absurd schedule I've been keeping since Thanksgiving (also the topic of an unpublished blog fragment) has meant less talk, more rock. But now the presents are bought, inane holiday specials have been missed, and I'm "working from home" for the next week. The part of the holiday I LIKE is upon us. And not a minute too soon.
So what are we doing? We're hanging low. A little nog, a little family, a lot of torn wrapping paper (I had to put an electric fence around the tree to keep Cheeky from diving in early) and enough cookies and fudge to choke Augustus Gloop, that's what we're expecting. The stockings are hung by the chimney with care, with hopes that Rock Band soon will be there. We've already caught a couple movies, and are hoping to catch more, although we may settle for the 24-hour Christmas Story marathon instead.
(It's probably a good thing we're hanging low. Cheeky spewed so much half-digested cheeseburger and ice cream on Oodgie outside the Manhattan Children's Museum today she had to be run through the Wonka Wash.)
Anyway, we wish you and all your families the very happiest of holidays. Best wishes from Cheeky, Oodgie, and CroutonBoy!