Posted by
RepublicanEvangelist on Wednesday, December 24, 2008 1:14:59 AM
I have always loved Christmas and always remember the excitement and anticipation of Christmas Eve. My wife and I have two small children. I can count on one hand how many Christmas Eve's we will have putting out cookies for Santa and me eating them for him. I even get the sense that my daughter doesn't fully buy the whole Santa thing but plays along with mommy and daddy to get the goodies. The doorbell rang tonight and I asked my daughter if she thought it was Santa. She said no because Santa uses the chimney. Right answer. My wife had to wrap the gifts which have been living at the North Pole aka my office for a couple of months now. It is also the temporary garage for the very Mini Coopers.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/32730061@N06/3103556197/ Since the Coopers feature for no particular reason an FM radio (everyone knows Radio Disney is AM), my employee suggested we put on the local AOR station KLOS who was playing Stairway to Heaven as usual. If my kids attempt to put on NPR, the Coopers will have to go. Anyway, yesterday we loaded up my car and I drove home with a car full of Santa's stash. My wife dutifully wrapped the gifts while I put the kids to bed and ultimately passed out myself. Sometime around 10pm, my wife told me we were missing some gifts. At 1030pm I hit the road back to my office to retreive the missing packages and returned back before midnight. This act I would have not previously attempted a couple of months ago when I would have had to dip into my children's college fund to fill up the tank. But last night I did partially because the idea of a nice drive with my tunes on the radio without traffic is something I couldn't pass up. In the morning, to my horror, my children found........ the packing popcorn. They made "snow" throughout the playroom and much like the mayors of major cities didn't have a snow removal program in place. Daddy was forced to remove the snow while saying a few un Christmasy words along the way. My son, says, or yells more accurately, "DADDY, NO BE ANGRY. YOU TIMEOUT." No timeouts for daddy for now or the next sixteen years although the idea of 42 minutes of time alone is intriguing.