Christmas 2010

2010.  

“Griffin, where are your clothes?”
“What?”
“All you have in here is your Scooby Doo costume.”
“Nooo.”
“Yes.”
“No, there are some socks and my toothbrush.”
And… our vacation begins.

“So when do people start having boyfriends and girlfriends?”
“I don’t know.  I guess some people kind of do in my grade.”
Really?  6th grade btw.  “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No Dad.”  Silence.
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
I turn to Cooper.  “Does he have a girlfriend?”
Cooper and Griffin simultaneously, “You mean Mary?”
Wait.  What?  “Who’s Mary?”
Griffin and Cooper fall into a sing-songy “Mary, Mary, Maaarrryyyyyy” and start giggling hysterically.
Ben returns.  “What?”
“Who’s Mary?” I ask.
Cooper and Griffin are suddenly looking at the ceiling.
Ben snaps a freeze ray glance at his brothers and now they are completely silent and fascinated by their spaghetti.  My spies have just been sentenced to the gulag with a slight raised eyebrow.

“Can you go pick up Cooper at the Labadini’s?”
“Sure.  I have to go to the hardware store too.”
Home.
“I finally got a battery for the remote!”
“Where’s Cooper?”
Silence.  “Be right back.”

“And for god’s sake, just don’t ask Betsy about her husband.  They just got divorced.”
Well, I really don’t need to describe how that one went.

Christian pipes up with the question that strikes fear into every parent:
“Dad, do you have a wipe?”
I look up. Dear god, I hope that is chocolate.

A 30 second excerpt from the dinner table:

“Don’t forget we have the play on Saturday.”
“Who’s Jack Nicholson?”
“Christian, please don’t put your tractor in the potatoes.”
“Do you think I can save enough for an iPhone?”
“What play?”
“He’s a golfer.”
“Why does Ben get an iPhone?”
“Can you get Christian to eat his beans, please?”
“He is not a golfer.”
“Did you talk to your parents today?”
“Who said Ben was getting an iPad?”
“iPhone”
“What?”

Ben went to his first ballroom dancing class; Cooper got his braces on and braces off; Griffin learned how to ride his bike; and Christian went wee wee wee all the way home but gratefully not in the Heritage pool.

Polly is on the board of one school, co-chairs the social committee for another, sits on the board of the hospital auxiliary, somehow moves our army around and still is able to fire expletives at some traffic offender faster than Dennis Leary.  We call her the Hall of Justice (you know, the SuperFriends cartoon from 19…, er, nevermind).

And thusly it is almost like you have been living with us.  We so hope this letter finds you surrounded by love and good cheer.  We are grateful that you are in our lives so we can send you these silly letters.  The door to the nuthouse is always open – you just can’t be allergic to nuts.  Or you can, you just might get itchy.  Happy Holidays!

Love to all.

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