There is a score of crashes and breaking glass down in the kitchen, measured by the metronomic clacking of a kendama ball. A yelp, a smash, and now there are cries that the tree has fallen over. This is the sound of post-Christmas present implementation. An oven vent being installed, awkward-limbed children destroying the living room. I think I will just lay here a bit longer.
_ _ _
I missed Christmas morning. The baby pawed sleepily at me to nurse while the boys scrambled down the stairs at 5:30am, and by the time I gathered her up and crept downstairs the stockings were disgorged. Gavin had left a note for Santa requesting "magic sprinkled on everyone", so the boys looked as if they had been punched twice in the face with red glitter. Mike had glittery hand prints wiped on his pajama pants.
After coffee was secured, the usual frenzy of ripping began.
After coffee was secured, the usual frenzy of ripping began.
The toy of the year is the kendama, which is just a fancy ball and cup. There has been a youthful backlash against electronic toys in these parts, and all the cool kids are playing with retro toys that do not use batteries and which can also be used as weapons if no adults are looking. The richer bullies can even buy cherry wood kendamas, if they've split their pine ones on the heads of second-graders.
There was loot.
Among the toys, ornaments, oven vents, and books, there was a perfect small jar of honey from my aunt's own beehives in British Columbia. The idea of wearing a giant bee suit and commanding an army of bees makes my mother's run-away-and-buy-a-farm-in-Washington plan a bit more tempting.
Zenny was very bad at unwrapping, but very enthusiastic about the goods. Also about the Hershey kisses, which are just the right size to lodge in her esophagus. (As are the almonds. And gelt. And a lot of the bows. It's been an exciting time for me.)
My mother gave me AMAZING 5-piece 6-inch carbon-fiber double-pointed size-0 sock needles with dual-function yarn-knitting and hand-impaling action! (The steel knitting needles I had asked for.) This was the best picture Leif could take of me with the magic needles:
There were TINY WEINERS.
The boys were silent for 6 solid hours, assembling mini Minecraft worlds out of a billion squares of plastic.
And MEAT PIE.
There is an entire lamb roast and half a cow in there. With gravy, and carrots, and neeps. My crust would have been nicer, but the rolling pin I bought my mother to replace the one with the broken handle was smashed and broken in exactly the same way. The gift of a complicated Amazon merchandise return.
The bottle of Braddah Kimo's Undrinkable Poison Rum we have used to set fire to our plum puddings for 10 years still had an inch of combustible liquid in it. Braddah Kimo's is an amazing accelerant and tastes very good once most of it is burned off, and is potentially a great murder weapon, if used as a hostess gift at a party you don't want to be at.
At nightfall we drank cherry wine, watched the Hogfather until the kids dropped off to sleep on our laps, and put them to bed by hedgehog light.
Twilight haaaaands.
Discovery of the year: Big Island Candies Mika passion fruit melty things. These have ousted Shmidt truffles as the sin of choice.
It was a good year.
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