For sale to the highest bidder.

One, slightly-used, four and a half year old.

Attractive, gregarious, must give up as our house isn't quite large enough for this particular child. Must go to a good home with a safe yard and lots of loud activities.

Inexpensive upkeep: He eats anything (except carrots), doesn't use too much water (showers only rarely and flushes only when the HAZMAT team requires it), and will hardly use a bed (sleeps only sparingly). Doesn't make too much of a mess (even puked into the trash can during our kid party over the weekend, lesson learned - more than one bag of gummy worms can have unfortunate consequences).

WARNING: Not responsible for any of the following compulsions the child has: feels compelled to use power tools, bang on things (anything) that make noise, refuses to put his shoes on, is apparently unable to lift dirty clothes off of the floor, but can throw a football forty yards (sometimes even tries in the house), sometimes doesn't smell very fresh, is a morning person - but not a happy one, plans on being a jouster and a rockstar when he grows up (armor ain't cheap anymore), must have help selecting the proper toothbrush and storybooks or screaming fits and panic ensues... oh, and likes to create fire.




(By the way, before you refer me to Child Protective Services, I am really just kidding - but, sometimes it sounds attractive. As I said in my original introduction, B is the most likely to melt my heart and the most likely to be responsible for my being institutionalized).

Whew, it's over.

I will try to say more about it later.

But, it was exhausting, fun, and hectic.

The kids all had a good time.

It's partytime (nearly).

We are ready...

• The dry ice will start to fog our tables at 2:45.
• We have the dark blue cloths on the tables, strewn with gold and silver stars.
• Our professors robes are hanging in the closet and the children's robes are still ready (remember them from Halloween?).
• The star garland is strewn about the house.
• The sorting hat is ready. The nametags with house colors are ready.
• The dragon eggs are ready to be hidden (once I take the miscreants out for lunch).
• The house banners are up.
• The balloons are (mostly) placed.
• The cookies are ready.
• The potions class is prepared.
• Wand craft is ready to go.
• Transfigurations assignments have been determined.
• The Quidditch cake is here.
• Divinations tasks are ready to go.

Much glitter glue and sparkles will be involved. Lots of sugar and some scary punch will be ready.

This will be our first major-league kid party.

All we need now is 19 screaming children.

Get the Led out.

Z checks out my iPod. "Mom, you've got to listen to this... this is so cool".

"What'd you find?"

"At-chills last stand?"

"At-chills?... oh - Achillles?"

"um, I don't know, it is by Led Zeppelin".

"Yes, dear, I've heard that before".

"No, really, you've got to hear - really cool".

...

I'll look forward to surfing the internet tomorrow and the day after.

One of my favorite all-time bands is going to play tomorrow night. Of course, they'll be a million miles away.

At the time of evening where people in London will be gearing up to see them play, decades after their last show - I will be decorating a tree, feeding people egg nog, and reading bedtime stories (and loving it, but a smidge wistful perhaps about the music).

Hope that they have a rocking good time across the pond. I'll look forward to reading about it, maybe hearing bits of it after the fact.

It's been interesting to hear about some of the adjustments already made for the fact that voices get deeper as folks age - Plant can't hit the high ones like they used to, so the band has key-adjusted some of their work, according to the music blogs.

He also has indicated that his shirt will be less open. And, that as we say, is a good thing.

That said, Jimmy isn't hard on the eyes for his age. Ironically, he has kids about the same age as mine... as well as a daughter about my age.

Oh, the weather outside is...

Despite my lack of enthusiasm for Christmas this year... it looks like it is going to come anyway.

So, we broke down and got an absolutely lovely eleven foot tree today and set it up. It is settling out a bit, waiting to be dressed for the dance. It is really big - but, we've a lovely place for it.

I am all "wintery" here... tree in the house, pot of soup on the stove, snowy scenes on decorative platters, splint on wrist from ice-fall the other day (just a sprain, good grief).

And, it all feels kinda wrong... because it is nearly 70 degrees F today (21 degrees C).

Santa is going to have a terrible time with his sleigh if this keeps up.

Bitter.

Terribly icy this morning.

I checked the weather first thing, anticipating possible closings, as we had an unexpected bit of ice. No luck.

J fell while getting the newspaper.

We did the usual frantic morning rush to get kids fed and dressed and out of the house.

I stepped outside to empty my car of Christmas gifts to wrap - slipped and fell (on my other wrist - not the one I broke last summer - the same damn way). It hurt, but I shook it off and got in the car.

I followed J on his way to drop Z at school with B and T to take to the daycare. We passed three cars off the road on the one mile of our road we both travel. Then, J passed me on the way back to the house. I knew, then, that school must have cancelled (after I had checked) so, I waited until I could safely turn around and headed back home.

By then, the daycare, the schools, and my college had been cancelled (the schools all day, my college until my ten o'clock class). Crap.

J will work at home until I get back from class. So, at nine-ish I head out for the college. I made it halfway and the roads are so bad (I have seen four more vehicles off the road) that I call the school to see if we still open at ten - nope, closed 'til noon.

I come home.

My wrist hurts more and more. Hopefully, it is just a sprain. It should be a festive purple by tomorrow.

My last day of fall classes end somewhat not how I had planned.

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?