It’s Christmas season. Here is my tree.
You might notice the complete absence of any festive decorations on my tree. This wasn’t premeditated. I put the tree up. I watched my children eye it conspiratorially. I looked at the ornaments. I did this:
I like my ornaments and more importantly I treasure my sanity. So the ornaments did not go up this year. Henry is at a very “chokey” phase in his development and this helps me sleep at night. Not even once has the thought, “Where is Harry Potter’s TINY ORNAMENT HEAD?!” crossed my mind. #worthit
While I have avoided what could have been the great Christmas tree caper of 2015, seasonal mischief disorder is upon us. It’s as if loud Christmas music is blaring in my children’s heads which makes them impervious to my admonitions.*
Me- “Stop shredding toilet paper and feeding it to the baby!”
Maisy- “Jingle Bells…. Jingle Bells… Jingle aaaall the waaaaaay.”
Clearly Seasonal Mischief disorder has been affecting children for centuries, necessitating the invention of a mythical being who watches them even when they are sleeping to monitor their naughtiness. By the way, how long can we keep up the facade of Santa’s elves using little hammers in the workshop? These days to keep up you’d have to have at least an associate’s degree from the North Pole Community College of iPad assembly.
Much to my chagrin, my main purveyor of dastardly deeds is Number one son. I’ve included a sampling of said deeds below.
And this is how Owen walked downstairs from “taking a nap.”
Merry Christmas y’all!!
*thought stolen out of the brain of a friend.