Santa Gets The Good Gift. As He Should.

Thanks to the randomness that is the Internet, it has come to my attention that not everyone uses the same criteria for figuring out what gifts are from Santa and what gifts are from the parental-type units. I hadn't even thought about it. What Santa brings has always been sort of automatic around here.

It's simple, really. Since I start shopping for Christmas pretty much in January, anything that is acquired before Alexis answers the "What do you want?" question is automatically a parent gift.  Once she has declared her every wish and desire, it pretty much comes down to figuring out the one thing she wants most. Santa is in charge of that one thing. No more, no less. He gets one thing...be it a $10 item or an obnoxious $100 doll that makes me want to stab myself in the face with a spork.

In my head, the magic of Santa is that he brings that magical thing that the kid asks him to bring. What about at your house?

(Last year's Santa gift--the Hannah guitar that is still going strong. Obviously.)

Evil. Part 2.

When I ran across a Madame Alexander Belle doll on Amazon for $14.99, I knew I had to buy it. Alexis loves Belle. Alexis loves dolls. I love things that don't cost a kajillion dollars. I wasn't sure whether to give it to her for her birthday or Christmas, but when she acted all mature and awesome answering the "What if Santa fails you" questions, I pretty much HAD to shove more stuff under the tree for her.

Bonus: It was an opportunity to be evil.

Knowing full well that we would be opening gifts tonight (we do it before we leave town so that we don't have to haul anything extra with us), I started setting up the shenanigans during our commute home after work and school. I brought up the "What if Santa fails you" questions again, this time being more specific.

"What if Santa brings you . . . a light bulb?" I asked.

"Santa won't bring me a light bulb," she replied.

"What if Santa brings you . . . some underwear?" I asked.

"That would be fine," she replied.

"What if Santa brings you . . . a Barbie?" I asked.

"I would LOVE a Barbie!" she enthusiastically replied.

"What if Santa brings you . . . socks?"

"I'll be fine if Santa brings socks," she replied.

"What if Santa brings you . . . the wrong doll?" I asked.

"That would be fine," she replied.

No matter what I asked, she replied in the most mature and awesome way possible. If I weren't so darn proud of her for being awesome, I'd be kind of annoyed that she wasn't giving me the fun little hissy fit I so definitely had earned.

Talk is cheap, though. What would really happen if we gave her the wrong doll? Mwahahaha!

Later in the evening, Alexis blasted through opening her presents, genuinely excited about every little thing.

I do not understand this thing where 4-year olds are happy to get clothes for Christmas, but whatever. She was excited and she was happy and she was genuinely delighted with everything. Especially the Jasmine costume (Disney Store after Halloween clearance? OH, HOW I LOVE THEE.).

And then she got to the box with the Madame Alexander doll in it. Now, I have spent the past month trying to talk the child out of wanting an American Girl doll. I have shown her every possible knock-off this side of the Mason Dixon line and I had even shown her photos of fakes imported from Jupiter or Saturn or somewhere. The kid wasn't buying what I was selling. The conversation consistently went back to, "Give me Rebecca or give me a rock to throw at your head." Or something like that.

She started to peel the paper.

Then, as she fully realized what was inside the box, MONEY SHOT!

The disappointment. It drips.

She mumbled something about it not being THE doll she had asked for, but then recovered almost instantly.

She glued on a smile, said thanks and all that, and continued on opening presents. There was lots of excitement, tons of smiles, and buckets full of glee.

She really is a very happy camper tonight. A VERY happy camper. In fact, when I asked her to list her favorite present, she listed every single thing she got.

Including the Belle doll.

NOW I think she has sufficiently earned that $100 American Girl doll. She won't be getting it until Sunday (when we get back from visiting family), but I think it's safe to say she is going to lose her mind.

Oh, and I'm done torturing her. For now.

I Finally Figured Out A Way To Keep Her Quiet.

What's that about the early bird? And waiting until tomorrow to do something you can do today? And the last minute? Oh, yeah. It's that if I think I'm way ahead of the game, the universe will find a way to blow up my scheming.

Preschool teacher gifts. I planted those paperwhites just after Thanksgiving, at the same time as I always have when I'm shooting for early January blooms. I was so proud of myself for having teacher gifts taken care of early that I probably bruised my back patting it so vigorously.

Obviously, one of the happy little paperwhites was all, "Yes, ma'am, I will cooperate with your plan." The others, however, were all, "What? You want us to grow? We gotta keep low in case the Feds come by." They're alive and did sprout, but are apparently in absolutely no rush to look like much of anything. I have absolutely no idea why, other than the theory that I shouldn't ever do anything early.

Late. Always be late if you want the universe to help you out.

Since tomorrow is the big day when Alexis will deliver her teacher gifts, I decided I needed some sort of Plan B. She'll still be taking the pitiful little stubby plants because I already have too many designated for us to keep, but I feel bad that they're insanely unexciting as is, so we're adding a little something.

Chocolate covered marshmallows.

I melted some chocolate wafers in the microwave and gave Alexis some sticks, a bag of marshmallows, and a few bowls of sprinkles and crushed candy.

An hour later, she was covered head-to-toe in chocolate, but she had made 40 perfect little chocolate covered marshmallows. All by herself. Alone. QUIETLY.

I hereby decree that we shall be gifting chocolate-covered marshmallows every year to every person we know. Forever and ever.

QUIETLY! SHE DID IT QUIETLY! IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!