Burning

Today, being the second last day of the year, I took the kids grocery shopping to prepare for a weekend with company and all the celebrations that the New Year entail. Needless to say, the store was incredibly busy. I hate shopping when it's busy. Especially with two young children who have missed their afternoon naps due to the unfortunate timing of a doctor's appointment. As I navigated through crammed aisles trying to keep Hannah from being run over, I tried to grab the items from my list as fast as possible. This task was made difficult due to aisle-blockers who left their carts to more conveniently access items from who-knows-where. Part way through this annoying, half-frenzied shopping, Hannah announced that she had to go to the bathroom. Right now. Taking deep, even breaths, I negotiated our cart across the entire store to the bathroom. Once there, I parked Jacob in the cart, held the door open with my foot, and encouraged Hannah to be independent and fast. Jacob was trying to climb out of the cart, Hannah wouldn't let me shut the door unless I came inside, and to top it off, there was a woman shooting me evil glares while she ostensibly waited for the bathroom. Hannah, meanwhile, was singing and certainly not going fast. Eventually, evil-stare woman went to the men's bathroom. We resumed our shopping. Jacob, slightly sick, definitely tired, was falling asleep in the cart. Hannah was half-walking, half-dragging her feet, and continually coming to a dead stop right in front of the cart. Finally, we crossed the last item off our list. With a huge sigh of relief, I made my way to the long lines at the check-out. While in line, Jacob made a disturbing sound and started whimpering. Try as I might to communicate telepathically with the cashier, there was nothing I could do to make her move any faster as she gently and ever-so-slowly scanned each of my one hundred items while my son sat in a pile of diarrhea that was burning his already painfully sore buttocks, which was the reason for our initial visit to the doctor in the first place.

Ah, holiday memories.

Christmas Reflections from Hannah

Having a somewhat quizzical mind, Hannah is not one to let things go without first analyzing, questioning, or criticizing them. In that spirit, here are some of her thoughts around Christmas:

• How does Santa get past the glass in front of our fireplace? Excellent query.
• I don't want Santa to come in my bedroom (after seeing him tiptoe into a sleeping child's room in a movie). I don't blame you, it is a bit creepy.
• Why did Santa give Jacob presents even though he's bad? Uh oh, this naughty or nice thing isn't going to work next year.
• I dreamed about the reindeer last night. They were all taking the caps off their noses to see if any of them had a red nose like Rudolph and one did. Just like that, Rudolph is no longer a misfit.  
• This is not a real Santa (referring to a stuffed toy version). His beard doesn't go all the way around, he's not wearing a belt, and his bag is a backpack not a sack. Inimitable condescension. Who made this toy? It's clearly not an acceptable replica.
• Please stop singing that, mom. It's not even the right tune. And it's not Christmas anymore. Ouch. But, painfully, true.