Tuesday, December 15, 2009
From the moment of his arrival, the heavenly peace was never quite the same and The Littlest Angel soon became both the joy and despair of the motherly host.
His crooked halo was permanently tarnished where he held on to it with one hot, little, chubby hand when he ran, and he was always running.
And being so small it seemed to take him twice as long as anyone else to get to nightly prayers. The Littlest Angel always arrived late, knocking every one's wings askew as he darted into his place.
His shrill, ear-splitting tantrums resounded at all hours through the golden streets. It startled the patriarch and disturbed his meditation. All paradise could easily understand why The Littlest Angel would, sooner or later, have to be disciplined. And so he was directed to present his small self before the motherly host in hopes of restoring the peace.
With a heavy heart, he trudged his way to the place of judgement. Standing defiantly, The Littlest Angel tried to pretend that he wasn't at all impressed by such stern words and that he wasn't at all afraid. But his lower lip trembled, and a tear disgraced him by making a new furrow down his already tear-streaked face.
And, as usual, his flaws in behavior were quickly forgiven. For the irresistible appearance of The Littlest Angel always made the motherly host forget to move her wings and she would fall head over halo for him just as she had exactly 4 years, 5 months, 23 days, 11 hours, and 42 minutes ago.
Yes, from the moment of The Littlest angel's arrival, the heavenly peace was never quite the same. But the patriarch and the motherly host and the other seraphim and cherubim loved that mischievous little cherub just the way he was.
Monday, December 14, 2009
So now back to the tough decision of what to do for 2009? My sweet husband has been trying to help me come up with some ideas but his ideas are just too.... male. (I don't really want to deliver a bunch of Pepperidge Farms salamis and Ritz although he thinks that's the perfect idea.) He did have one other idea. He actually meant it for some comic relief but it needs to be told. He said that we need to get down to the real reason we celebrate Christmas and that we should just buy a bunch of cake mix and make everyone small "Happy Birthday Jesus" cakes. I couldn't even type the sentence without cracking up!!!
Now that I've boosted my morale by reminiscing about the organized Tiffiny of 2008 and giggled myself into a bellyache I think I'm ready to think some more about this oddly difficult decision. This post has been good therapy. And a good distraction.
And for those of you who might end up getting a gift that seems not-so-thoughtful and very last-minute.... just know that I didn't mean for it to end up that way. And that I'll do my best to redeem myself in 2010. But until then... a virtual gift for you:
None of this bothers me. I'm used to it. I'm glad he's always been interested in my pregnancies and wants to know everything the Dr. is doing and why. I'm glad he's a fun, approachable guy who has the gift and ability to make those around him feel comfortable. And even though impersonating an officer is considered a felony it gets him out of a lot of tickets. (And I have to say that he's only done this twice--in a joking matter--and the cops just believed him and let him go--no questions asked--so he wasn't really impersonating an officer.)
But when my husband sees my boys' hair needing a trim and he gets a pair of scissors in his hands he magically becomes a barber. This bothers me. I've begged. I've pleaded. I've threatened. But when I do these things my husband magically becomes deaf. None of his
I only see two conclusions to this predicament. #1-- I gather all of the scissors and trimmers and bury them in a deep hole in my backyard. OR #2-- I take my boys to get their hair cut on a more regular basis.
I guess you all know where I'll be this afternoon....