When Freaky Friday Collides with Christmas Crazy

Conditional Listening

Mila is definitely a crafty sort of kid, and I mean that with all of the potential meanings in play. She is all sorts of good at trickery and such, but she's also quite the magician with markers and paint and scissors and the like.

I probably should encourage all of these things, but GAHDAMMIT WITH THE SCISSORS, KID. The last time I couldn't find a single pair anywhere in the house, I went dumpster diving in her bedroom and found -no joke- 10 pair. I didn't even know that we own 10 pair of scissors, but there they were. All of them were living in the nooks and crannies of her bedroom.

She had a pair tucked in her bed, by the way. As in, Mila had been sleeping with scissors. I'm sure there is a logical explanation. o_O

Anyway. All of this craftiness leads to me engaging in additional crafty shenanigans. That is how it came to be that there is a giant pile of plain ornaments in my house along with mountains of paint and glitter. Mila has been on a painting rampage, which is fine. I suppose I can find a Christmas tree to put more ornaments on. Surely there is one around here somewhere.

The other thing I will need to find a home for is the ornaments we made at the Pittsburgh Glass Center. We've made blown-glass ornaments most years, but this year we went with the twisty type. It was a solid activity and both girls were smitten with the whole thing.

But Mila.

She of poor listening skills is remarkably capable of being a most excellent listener in certain situations. The Pittsburgh Glass Center apparently delivers on that situation because that kid perfectly followed every single instruction.

Which, huh? She can do that? I've never seen it before.

So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to add a very giant oven to my house. It appears that Mila's ears work better when the threat of melting in a oven filled with glass exists, so I'm going to create that threat. It'll totally be worth it.

(This wasn't sponsored, by the way. We geniunely like the Pittsburgh Glass Center. We like it so much that we've made at least one trip per year there, with the exception of the year that didn't exist because of COVID.)

Pay It Forward

There's a certain magic that comes from random strangers from the internet banding together to make the world a tiny bit better. It's 100% true and I will put a dollar value to that magic at the end of the week. (The delay is because there are some shenanigans afoot that aren't quite tied up with a bow. Soon, my friends. Soon.)

There's also a certain magic that comes from not-so-random strangers joining in on the fun.

I've mentioned that some of you are AWESOME at writing gift receipt messages. Whether it's a name that reminds me that I have no freakin' clue who the majority of you are, a familiar twitter handle that's been in on the fun for years and years, or a clever joke among friends, I -love- all of the messages. This year, though. This year there was a message that stopped me in my tracks and made me feel all of the feels.

I wanted to post a photo of it, but there's a tiny bit of identifying information on there and we don't play that. So. Here's word-for-word what was typed in the little "Gift Message" box from Amazon, except that Imma drop the part that gives a bit more than a hint as to who sent the package.

Years ago "Christmas Crazy" delivered a smile to my daughter for Christmas, and now I'm glad to be able to give back. Thanks for doing this.

You are very welcome, L. And thank you, Center for Victims, for giving people the opportunity to turn things around.