27 December 2010
Story #342
R. Linda:
So, let me start out with Christmas Eve night. It's a family tradition on my side of the family to buy Christmas ornaments for each family member so that one day, when the kiddies reach the age of one, they have their own tree and decorations. I'm told this is an old Irish tradition, but I'm more inclined to think it's English, since when did the Irish have time or money for such? And as the old folks lose those decorations, they will have some to make it look like someone did not come in and rob their tree blind of decor. We also give out new sleepwear so that night, the kiddies feel like they have got a present ahead of Christmas morning, and wearing the new jammies will lead to sweet dreams along with the sugar plum candy Mam makes (just a few) so each of us gets one before bed. I've no idea where these traditions come from, but we were all set up for this.
It was a night of Christmas eggnog in moose glasses (yes, Griswold all the way) to start. We wished each other good cheer, and then we gathered around the tree and chatted as if we hadn't been living together since October . . . I dunno. After this farce, we were off to the dining room table, where Tonya and Mam had laid out quite a feast of cold cuts, rolls, condiments, salads, Christmas cookies, Turkish delight, mince pies, and WASSAIL!
We had our fill and ended up in the lounge for the Yankee Swap, which be not a family tradition, but one picked up from several Christmas Eves at me old neighbours below us. The hit of the night was the Obama-O-Metre. This I got and kept. It keeps a countdown on when Obama's term in office is up. Every day a lower number, :-)~ Some other things were a box containing rainbow-coloured socks to make your very own sock puppet, which Tonya ended up with, but she gave it to me. I said to her I was delighted. She looked at me like I was a crazy man and wished me well in constructing el socko. I said, "Nooo, I'm wearin' em."
She stopped what she was doing to look at me like I was a nutter.
"They be very warm looking, Tonya." Said I, examining the contents.
She shook her head like she didn't believe me. We'll see about that.
Then there were the BoSox blue and red Christmas ornaments—Da got that—a talking toilet roll dispenser that said, "Yes you can," in Obama's voice, and a lovely roll of toilet paper with O's picture on it. I also ended up with that, as my old Mam was less than amused. I do believe it was she who bought the rainbow sock puppet kit.
It was back to the table for munchies again, because there is nothing like offensive swap gifts to give your hunger an edge.
Once back from the trough, I mean table, it was time to open a gift from Lois for the two boyos. It was the Hallmark big book, The Night Before Christmas. Yes, I know we got one of these last year, too, and what a disaster it was. Now, before you get all ooh and ahh on me, let me hint at how scary the book is, scarier than last year, for sure! It is set up so the giver can record their voice telling the story as the readers (who can't read) turn the pages and look at the pictures. Well, it started out with Lois's big booming voice laughing a "HO HO HO MERRY CHRISSSSTMASSSSS," and then she went on and on over-dramatising the story to where it would do more for Halloween. She dropped her voice so it sounded very Jack Skellington and HO HO HO, read the story with almost another spin, a rather drunken spin. After a few moments when the horror of it started to sink in, me sainted Mam grabbed the book away from the pair of intrigued boyos because she realised what was happening. They, in turn, started screaming that "BamMa took our BOOK!"
"Och, it's the Nightmare Before Christmas, and these wee ones will NOT be subject to such rubbish!" she said, hugging the offending book to her bosom.
I'm sure we had to agree, it was done in fun, but really? Quick thinking, Tonya went for the ornament presents, as Mam took out the batteries from the book, and only that way would she hand the offending thing back. But this did not make it better, they were wailing that "BamMa killded auntie Lewis," (well, what do you want, they don't talk well after eggnog and why? Because Da spiked it without realising the wee ones would get a taste, we didn't know until we saw Da's face as he watched in horror as they took a few sips, UGH!).
Well, Guido didn't want no stinkin' ornaments; he wanted the real presents. So Da, looking to make amends, gave him his jammie present, which he tore into and, on seeing the PJs, sat there with a scowl on his face so deep you couldn't see his eyes. The child was angry, this we knew, so quickly we all shifted focus to O'Hare, who lifted out his new jammies and with an incredulous look on his face announced, "I am not wearing THESE! They have feet, they are baby PJs!" OH MY. Mam picked out the PJs, which wasn't our fault this year. He went to the corner, folded his arms and stood with his back to us. The only outstanding thing about this action was that his lower lip was so far stuck out I could have sat on it.
Tonya, not wanting me parents to be offended, quickly grabbed the footed pyjamas and then the child and took him into the other room to get him dressed for bed. We could hear him protesting; he didn't want to come out. He looked like a baby. I thought it was like The Christmas Story, and then I realised he was one step away from pink bunny pyjamas. If THOSE were available, I be certain me apple-cheeked Mam would have gotten him THOSE and I can vouch that if THAT had happened, the child would have left home then and there.
But out he came looking embarrassed, an expression I had never seen on his precious little face ever before. I guess there's a first time for everything, LOL. The other one, Mam had undressed to his nappy when he saw his brother in the blue snowman with feet jams, he got up like a bat out of hell and ran for the back door. Yes, he did. Tonya took off after him, grabbing his new PJs with a snowman's head on the right top but no feet. She was trying to show her near-naked son the feet-less jammies, but he was on tiptoes trying to get the door open the best he could, and he almost had it and escaped, but for Mam grabbing him up and holding him down while Tonya dressed him. I tell ya it was hit or miss there for a few minutes until he discovered he could see his feet! This, of course, did not make the elder one happy. WHY OH WHY was he wearing pyjamas with FEET and his baby bro wasn't? That was the question.
Mam explained that she thought he'd like them because he always complained that he was cold. That ploy is used to get hot chocolate, not because he's cold, but for the chocolate. Yes, R. Linda, he's very much me boyo -- loves chocie. So now he's paying for that excuse with pyjamas with feet in them. Yes, he is. He'll have to rethink how to get that hot chocolate without ending up with an entire wardrobe of PJs with feet!
It was a struggle, but we got them to bed, and we all collapsed in the lounge with the last of the wassail.
"I don't know about the rest of ye, but I be getting too old for this," said I with a sigh. I flicked on the telly for the weather, and the good news was the Winter Storm Watch had been cancelled; the bad news was the Blizzard Alert was in effect.
SIGH!!!
R. Linda:
So, let me start out with Christmas Eve night. It's a family tradition on my side of the family to buy Christmas ornaments for each family member so that one day, when the kiddies reach the age of one, they have their own tree and decorations. I'm told this is an old Irish tradition, but I'm more inclined to think it's English, since when did the Irish have time or money for such? And as the old folks lose those decorations, they will have some to make it look like someone did not come in and rob their tree blind of decor. We also give out new sleepwear so that night, the kiddies feel like they have got a present ahead of Christmas morning, and wearing the new jammies will lead to sweet dreams along with the sugar plum candy Mam makes (just a few) so each of us gets one before bed. I've no idea where these traditions come from, but we were all set up for this.
It was a night of Christmas eggnog in moose glasses (yes, Griswold all the way) to start. We wished each other good cheer, and then we gathered around the tree and chatted as if we hadn't been living together since October . . . I dunno. After this farce, we were off to the dining room table, where Tonya and Mam had laid out quite a feast of cold cuts, rolls, condiments, salads, Christmas cookies, Turkish delight, mince pies, and WASSAIL!
We had our fill and ended up in the lounge for the Yankee Swap, which be not a family tradition, but one picked up from several Christmas Eves at me old neighbours below us. The hit of the night was the Obama-O-Metre. This I got and kept. It keeps a countdown on when Obama's term in office is up. Every day a lower number, :-)~ Some other things were a box containing rainbow-coloured socks to make your very own sock puppet, which Tonya ended up with, but she gave it to me. I said to her I was delighted. She looked at me like I was a crazy man and wished me well in constructing el socko. I said, "Nooo, I'm wearin' em."
She stopped what she was doing to look at me like I was a nutter.
"They be very warm looking, Tonya." Said I, examining the contents.
She shook her head like she didn't believe me. We'll see about that.
Then there were the BoSox blue and red Christmas ornaments—Da got that—a talking toilet roll dispenser that said, "Yes you can," in Obama's voice, and a lovely roll of toilet paper with O's picture on it. I also ended up with that, as my old Mam was less than amused. I do believe it was she who bought the rainbow sock puppet kit.
It was back to the table for munchies again, because there is nothing like offensive swap gifts to give your hunger an edge.
Once back from the trough, I mean table, it was time to open a gift from Lois for the two boyos. It was the Hallmark big book, The Night Before Christmas. Yes, I know we got one of these last year, too, and what a disaster it was. Now, before you get all ooh and ahh on me, let me hint at how scary the book is, scarier than last year, for sure! It is set up so the giver can record their voice telling the story as the readers (who can't read) turn the pages and look at the pictures. Well, it started out with Lois's big booming voice laughing a "HO HO HO MERRY CHRISSSSTMASSSSS," and then she went on and on over-dramatising the story to where it would do more for Halloween. She dropped her voice so it sounded very Jack Skellington and HO HO HO, read the story with almost another spin, a rather drunken spin. After a few moments when the horror of it started to sink in, me sainted Mam grabbed the book away from the pair of intrigued boyos because she realised what was happening. They, in turn, started screaming that "BamMa took our BOOK!"
"Och, it's the Nightmare Before Christmas, and these wee ones will NOT be subject to such rubbish!" she said, hugging the offending book to her bosom.
I'm sure we had to agree, it was done in fun, but really? Quick thinking, Tonya went for the ornament presents, as Mam took out the batteries from the book, and only that way would she hand the offending thing back. But this did not make it better, they were wailing that "BamMa killded auntie Lewis," (well, what do you want, they don't talk well after eggnog and why? Because Da spiked it without realising the wee ones would get a taste, we didn't know until we saw Da's face as he watched in horror as they took a few sips, UGH!).
Well, Guido didn't want no stinkin' ornaments; he wanted the real presents. So Da, looking to make amends, gave him his jammie present, which he tore into and, on seeing the PJs, sat there with a scowl on his face so deep you couldn't see his eyes. The child was angry, this we knew, so quickly we all shifted focus to O'Hare, who lifted out his new jammies and with an incredulous look on his face announced, "I am not wearing THESE! They have feet, they are baby PJs!" OH MY. Mam picked out the PJs, which wasn't our fault this year. He went to the corner, folded his arms and stood with his back to us. The only outstanding thing about this action was that his lower lip was so far stuck out I could have sat on it.
Tonya, not wanting me parents to be offended, quickly grabbed the footed pyjamas and then the child and took him into the other room to get him dressed for bed. We could hear him protesting; he didn't want to come out. He looked like a baby. I thought it was like The Christmas Story, and then I realised he was one step away from pink bunny pyjamas. If THOSE were available, I be certain me apple-cheeked Mam would have gotten him THOSE and I can vouch that if THAT had happened, the child would have left home then and there.
But out he came looking embarrassed, an expression I had never seen on his precious little face ever before. I guess there's a first time for everything, LOL. The other one, Mam had undressed to his nappy when he saw his brother in the blue snowman with feet jams, he got up like a bat out of hell and ran for the back door. Yes, he did. Tonya took off after him, grabbing his new PJs with a snowman's head on the right top but no feet. She was trying to show her near-naked son the feet-less jammies, but he was on tiptoes trying to get the door open the best he could, and he almost had it and escaped, but for Mam grabbing him up and holding him down while Tonya dressed him. I tell ya it was hit or miss there for a few minutes until he discovered he could see his feet! This, of course, did not make the elder one happy. WHY OH WHY was he wearing pyjamas with FEET and his baby bro wasn't? That was the question.
Mam explained that she thought he'd like them because he always complained that he was cold. That ploy is used to get hot chocolate, not because he's cold, but for the chocolate. Yes, R. Linda, he's very much me boyo -- loves chocie. So now he's paying for that excuse with pyjamas with feet in them. Yes, he is. He'll have to rethink how to get that hot chocolate without ending up with an entire wardrobe of PJs with feet!
It was a struggle, but we got them to bed, and we all collapsed in the lounge with the last of the wassail.
"I don't know about the rest of ye, but I be getting too old for this," said I with a sigh. I flicked on the telly for the weather, and the good news was the Winter Storm Watch had been cancelled; the bad news was the Blizzard Alert was in effect.
SIGH!!!
 |
| Starting the escape attempt |
 |
| Almost out the door |
 |
| Me socks |
Copyright © 2010 All rights reserved
