It Could Have Been Much Worse, BUT STILL.

As Mr. Husband reached down to open the back of my SUV, time stopped. Alexis stood just to his left. My feet froze to the ground fifteen feet away as my mouth opened wide to yell, "Noooooooo!"

As my voice echoed around the parking lot, he didn't so much as pause. With a dazed and confused look on his face, he kept opening the door, preparing to toss in his bag filled with new shoes. My eyes opened wider and wider as Alexis stood staring into the gaping wide hole the now-open door had left behind.

"What?" Mr. Husband asked.

Then he saw it.

Santa had left a bunch of stuff in the trunk. The back of my car has always been the only safe place for Santa to stow things as Santa seems to be forever trying to pry a certain short person out of her butt. No space in the house is truly sacred, but it's really very easy to just not open the back of the vehicle for a few days.

Or, so Santa thought.

Mr. Husband quickly moved to close the door as he fussed at Alexis to go get in the car.

I knew it was too late. She had most definitely set eyes on something.

Right about then, Santa was crazy grateful that she had stashed the Big Present in a completely different place. All that there was to see was some stocking stuffers like underwear and socks and shampoo and toothpaste. Santa is kind of awesome and only brings junk like that to shove in the snowman-shaped stocking belonging to the short person.

As Mr. Husband and I got back in the car, I glared at him. I prepared to turn on the Nag-o-meter 5000, with intents to set it to Stun.

"What?" he asked. "She didn't see anything."

Given that she was IN THE BACK SEAT, it was interesting that he thought it was a good time for THAT conversation.

"Yes, she did," I replied. I figured the cat was already out of the bag, so I might as well just continue with the debate.

"No way," he went on. "The door wasn't open long enough."

Just then, a tiny high-pitched voice decided to join in on the conversation. "Mommy, why do you have pink Princess paper in the back of your car?"

INDEED. Why do *I* have pink Princess paper in the back of my car? I mean, if it doesn't perfectly match the red and silver and white tree, I don't buy it. Alexis is fully aware that wrapping paper MUST match the tree.

Santa, on the other hand, well, he has TERRIBLE taste in wrapping paper. He even used some hideous Dora stuff one year. Only Santa would ever dream of using tacky pink Princess paper.

I guess Santa is going to have to go find some more wrapping paper.

Somewhere In There Is Every Meaning Of Christmas

We drove out to Clinton, PA today to enjoy the Christmas Light-Up Celebration. It was the first time we had ever been there, so I had no idea what to expect. I'll share all of the photos at some point, but thought this one deserved to be showcased all by its lonesome self.

Not that it's the greatest photo I've ever taken, because it's not, but that photo has SO MUCH awesome going on.

Charlie Brown? Check. (He's behind the tree.)

Woodstock? Check.

Lucy? Check.

The Grinch? Check.

A rainbow? Check.

A manger? Check.

Baby Jesus? Check.

Santa looking over baby Jesus? Check and check.

I think they managed to cover pretty much every base there is to cover at Christmas in one little display.

Reason #64136578 That She's My Favorite

I am 98.6% evil, so I decided to torment Alexis with some questions about Santa. Specifically, I decided to ask her what she would do if he didn't come through and deliver the thing that she has requested. Given that she has flipped her lid any time we have threatened to call Santa and tell him to put her on the Naughty List, I was expecting some fun (for me) drama. She is REALLY committed to getting that American Girl doll.

As I worded the question, she looked at me carefully and then sighed loudly. Her face pinched up a little like this:

I tried to contain my laughter as I relished those moments of pained thought. But then Alexis' face relaxed as she continued to ponder my question. A few moments later, she finally said, "If Santa doesn't bring me an American Girl, I'll try really hard to be brave."

"You'll try to be brave?" I asked, my heart obviously swelling with pride.

"Yeah, I'll be brave," she repeated. "He might need to give it to one of the kids who doesn't have any toys."

We're doing something right.