Taking Care of Business

Let's take care of some long overdue blogland business . . .

Ages ago, Karen honored me with a super-cool award for Rocking the Crib. That Karen, she's so sweet you know. She's so sweet, in fact, that she made this, per my request. (Go. Admire the cuteness. Be ye jealous because Alexis will have it. Soon.) I'll be snagging that sucker up right after we get home from our usual Christmas rounds next week. Go ahead and buy one yourself, 'cuz I know Miss Alexis will be rocking that thing soon enough. (If she ever decides to wear clothes again, that is.)

I'm passing the Nap Warden's award on to Jayna at The Longest Year. Cause she rocks. And because she a Kent State alumna with a foreign language degree and I am required by KSU law to love people with that kind of history. We Flashes have to stick together you know.

In other award-type news, my new favorite bloggy chick over at AnGlOpHiLe FoOtBaLl FaNaTiC bestowed upon me the Winter Wonderland Award. My blog is purdy, what with the Christmas lights, isn't it? I forgot how much I enjoy playing around in PhotoShop. I must do it again sometime. Perhaps when I don't have a certain person hovering over my shoulder critiquing my every little circle (ahem, Mr. Husband).

I'm disobeying the blog gods and not passing it on. I'm not afraid.

In other blogland business, I still owe at least two of you a meme. They are coming, I promise. Just not tonight!

The Reindeer Games Have Ended, but Not the Friendship

Remember when I asked you to come play a reindeer game with me? Well, y'all pretty much said to do it. However, I thought it might be a bit risky to take advice from a bunch of strangers, so I consulted Bertha the Christmas Bulldog. I set the wrapped regiftable regifted gifts down by her side and let her ponder it for a while.

She said "Do it." So I did. Today.

I was at Oblivious' house so that we could fulfill our annual tradition of baking ridiculous volumes of Christmas cookies. I thoughtfully waited until the baking was nearly complete and the extra visitors were gone, then whipped out the boxes with a, "These are from Alexis." I shot Mr. Husband several "keep your mouth shut glances" and waited patiently to see what would happen.

"Oh, I love these!"

Then she hesitated. I knew right then and there she knew she had given them to us last year. So I explained how they came to be in my possession. And waited. And waited.

She started laughing. "You must think I'm such a goofus!"

She swears she will not be giving them back to me next year. We'll just have to see about that. It should be noted, however, that it would be totally acceptable if she were to forget where she got the super-cool puffy heart Sterling Silver bracelet that was her real gift this year, and it were to somehow end up back in my possession. I do have a birthday coming up next month.

Regifting the regifted gifts was not the funniest thing to happen today. This was:

Don't ask me why. I have no idea how it can be funny to have a fellow toddler pretend to be Aunt Gertrude and tug on your cheeks, but those two could hardly breathe they were giggling so hard.

The Naked Toddler Zone

You unlock this door with the key of independence. Beyond it is another dimension. A dimension of cold. A dimension of puddles. A dimension of Mind. You are moving into a land of both clothing and skin; of nudity and ideas. You are moving into . . . The Naked Toddler Zone.

This morning, 9:00 am. Amid the hustle and bustle of showers and ESPN, the Toddler played happily with crayons and kitchens, babies and pianos. A shining example of good behavior. Then . . . something happened that changed all that.

What started as a fleeting idea soon became a morning-long commitment. With a slow stripping of the pajamas and a fling of the diaper, she became . . . The Naked Toddler. Strutting her stuff before Elmo and God, she fervently refused all offers of clothing. No diaper was good enough, no pants would suffice, she was devoted to her commitment to earn her way into a nudist colony.

She concocted recipes with a clang of her pots and a stir of her spoon. Never before had her kitchen played host to so much skin. Onward she moved towards her piles of books. With a quack, quack here and a moo, moo there, she chewed through cherished literature with nary a thread. Forward she strolled for a walk down Sesame Street, all her goods proudly on display. The Toddler persisted, Zoe blushed, the parents fussed.

A sincere congratulations to the parents who have survived, and a friendly word of warning; something you won't find in any parenting book. The next time you think you've gone beyond the typical phase and you've given in to the urge to tease your Toddler-having friends, know to keep you mouth shut, or you just may find yourself entering The Naked Toddler Zone.

(Photos exist, but you're not getting them. And yes, I have seen the intro movie to Disney's Twilight Zone Tower of Terror a few thousand times.)