December 16, 2011

Dear Babies,

Nanny and Grumpah are babysitting for you guys tonight and Grumpah can’t understand why you guys can’t have Chinese food for dinner. I told him to get pizza. He, the first child of the family, doesn’t want pizza. Why can’t we get Chinese food. You can have Chinese food, they cannot. I can see you guys now, covered in the mystery gelatin that is sesame chicken…

I’m sure Christmas music will be blasting, that is, of course, if “a good Christmas show” isn’t on, good meaning–in this order–Home Alone, White Christmas, The Miracle on 34th Street (the original) or National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Anything else merits a flip to channel 883–“PUT ON CHANNEL 883!”–Optimum Cable’s picks for “sounds of the seasons.” They love the fun facts that run along the bottom of the screen against the back drop of a muppet-like snowman or a strand of twinkling lights. The Germans made the first artificial Christmas tree from dyed goose feathers.


The TV will be blasting, but the piercing volume won’t stop him from passing out on the couch, lying down stiff as a board on his back with his shoes on sticking straight up to the sky…

Your father and I are going to a party called “Martini’s and Mistletoe.” You go out, seeking adventure. However something tells me you guys are in for a far more interesting evening right here under your nose.

Love,

Mom

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