One of the things that has to be done for Christmas Crazy every year is to open all of the boxes and sort all of the things. There's a tedious bit of organizing that goes on, which is how I keep track of making sure everything arrives safe and sound, and Mila likes to help.
Wait, that should be "help." She thinks she's helping. Really she is just entertaining me.
Mila is the kid who is enthusiastic about absolutely everything. EVERYTHING. She can open up a box of boys underwear and still find joy. It proves my point that it's the act of opening the surprise that makes her happy, not the actual surprise itself. Which is fine. Because joy.
Still, sometimes she opens a box that has things in it she genuinely likes. This year she is extremely enchanted by all things baby Yoda, which AREN'T WE ALL? There are 2-3 baby Yoda figures and two stuffed baby Yodas and Mila says "Hi" to them every single day.
(No worries. I already bought her one of her very own. I'm hoping to make the "Hi" a daily event for the next several years.)
Other than that, though, not much has sustained Mila's attention this year. She thinks all of the Kindle Fires are cool, but she already has her own tablet, and the Paw Patrol toys have earned a lot of singing, but nothing major.
Until today.
Today we unpacked a baseball bat. Mila instantly grabbed it and ran over to the pile of collapsed boxes so she could whack it. A lot. All told, she spent an hour whacking the boxes. There's no real harm in that, but then she wouldn't put the bat down.
You guys, she carried the bat everywhere tonight. EVERYWHERE. She is currently sleeping with the bat. I will take it and it will end up at Center for Victims as it should, but for now Mila has declared a baseball bat her best friend.
COVID really is messing us all up.