Santa's The Man
T'was the night before Christmas at 11:30 p.m. and Chuck lit a cigarette, surveyed what he'd done and said... Bring it on, baybee, I'm ready!
Beth's last-minute add-on gift was purchased this morning. Zoe's in bed, dreaming disturbing dreams of a vindictive Peeping Tom burglar elf who's supposed to be bringing her presents in the night. Beth's downstairs wrapping my presents. One of hers is wrapped and I'll do the other two when she's done with mine. The Christmas tree was decorated to the accompaniment of the Taco Bell Christmas CD. Gifts have been exchanged at the father-in-law's house, my Dad and half-sister are on the road back to Colorado. And all that was just today.
The tree has been up for a few days now but we only got around to decorating it tonight. This is how Christmas traditions are born and foisted on wide-eyed innocent children. Too busy/lazy/tired/apathetic to decorate the tree in a proper timeframe, we've told Zoe that Santa not only brings presents but he also decorates your tree for you. This should come in handy, should we need it, for future Christmases. I'm thinking I might extend Santa's power to include any- and everything I don't get around to when I should.
I know I haven't paid your college tuition yet, Zoe, but don't worry, Santa does that too, in addition to bringing you presents, decorating the tree, finishing your science fair project, giving you driving lessons, and everything else he does for you. Santa's The Man, Zoe.
That's it for tonight. I have to turn in early because one thing Santa doesn't do is get up at the crack of dawn with toddlers in the grips of a present frenzy. Pray for me.
Merry Christmas!
