Tis the season.

I mentioned in an earlier post that I am going to host a party for 26 young seven-year-olds. I come by this disorder genetically. My sister (the overachiever) regularly hosts parties for dozens of small children. There are always lots of planned activities, treats to take home, special experiences, and memories of a lifetime.



So, I usually try to beg out of these affairs. For real - dozens of kids ten and under.

This year, however, she coerced me into taking my kids (and my hesitant husband and skeptical father) to her annual Christmas party. She lives five hours away, so this is an overnight affair.



You see, she has a special connection - and the old man* stops by to get everyone's special requests and to drop off an early toy...





It is too early for the sleigh, so he pulls up in a rigged red pickup truck, with a wood frame on the bed, and speakers playing carols.



B was hooked on the old man. Look how excited he is.

Z was more skeptical, but more than happy to chat with him and explain why he needs those items on his list.

T was more reticent. I thought he was just frightened of the jolly old guy.

That was before he started to cough, just a little one that started to build.

I was embarassed (there were over thirty kids there, and lots of parents). So, there I am in the middle of explaining that, "really, he was healthy when we left the house this morning".

That was when the flood gates opened and he hurled all over both of us. Not much to say at that point, but to vanish and clean the little guy up.

While I was hosing off the little guy, and changing both of us, tops to toes - B learned that a gentle little blow could make the angels ding.

And...

That meant that if he blew the hell out of it - the angels would fly all over the place... cool.

So, I cleaned up the little guy. There wasn't anywhere else to go, so we rejoined the festivities.

Boy, he looks just full of the old Christmas magic. Doesn't he?

B loved the "footie" that Santa gave him.

T was willing to examine the footie that Santa gave him (as long as that scary old man kept at a safe distance, thankyouverymuch).

Z loved the rubiks cube that Santa gave him. And, once J finished figuring out how to solve it again (hadn't solved it since the early 90's), he even let Z play with his own toy.

I'd show you the family photo we took, where we got the whole family in the photo with Santa and Mrs. Claus... but, we didn't get a good one before T hurled a second time all over his second outfit, his dad, and Mrs. Claus (I am not kidding). T and his dad left for a costume change while the Claus family made a break for it.

On the plus side, good old Mrs. Claus was just as jolly afterwards as she was before (a candidate for sainthood, I believe).

Time to get geared up for the holidays.

(oh, and if you were worried about the little guy - he perked up as soon as the scary red guy left the house - then, asked for a snack)

Then, Monday, he took his new footie to daycare with him, and hugged it all day.

*Is it just me? I find Santa Claus a bit creepy. This old guy sneaks around your house at night, snoops on your behavior all year, and (on the rare occasion you actually see him) wants you to sit on his lap. Weird, or what?