Your Chance to Be Right

There is a little something that Mr. Husband and I have fought about for a very long time. I thought we had resolved the battle last year, but it seems to have come back to life again this holiday season. It is of the utmost of importance that we come to an agreement on the issue, because the fighting is seriously getting ridiculous.

One of us is under the impression that Santa wraps his gifts and the other one of us thinks that Santa does not wrap his gifts.

I'm not saying which one of us believes what because I do not want to sway you into knowing which one of us is right. Yes, only one of us can be right. It's vital to the serenity in our marriage. (I know I have had this discussion with some of you before, so do me a favor and don't hint to what you know about who is on which side, mmkay?)

The argument is as follows:

Person A, who says YES Santa wraps gifts, is of the opinion that part of the fun of presents is opening them. He or she believes that Santa makes sure that toys are taken out of their packages as necessary, but that he then finds the perfect box for them so he can wrap them in paper that CLEARLY did not come from House 'o Burgh Baby. Person A says that Santa is magical and can instantly wrap even the oddest of shapes, although his wrapping skills are not quite on the level of Martha Stewart.

Person B, who says NO Santa does not wrap, believes that since Santa and his elves make all of the gifts, they never make it to the assembly line where they are packaged as if a national secret is dependent on that Little Person not shifting so much as a quarter inch to the left. Person B maintains that Santa doesn't have time to wrap, so he leaves the gifts fully assembled around the base of the Christmas tree.

So, prove I'm right, please and thank you.

(If you are using a feed reader, please click over for a poll.)

Thank you for participating in this VITAL DISCUSSION.

What Not to Wear (In My House)

'Tis the season. The season for all the moms and grandmas to go shopping for that very special little dress for that very special little girl. It's no secret that I'm uber-conservative in my opinions of kids clothing. I don't like pink, I don't like ruffles, and I don't like anything that reminds me of Mimi from The Drew Carey Show. I prefer simple clothes for Alexis and find most of her stuff on the clearance racks at the Gap Outlet.

Which is why I have never bought her a "Christmas dress." That's not to say she's never had one; I leave that to my mother-in-law. Who likes pink. And ruffles. And girly stuff. You see, she has a bunch of boys, and never had a chance to shop for a baby girl until Alexis came along.

Despite the fact that we don't necessarily like the same kinds of little girl clothes, I think we can agree that certain standards should be maintained when it comes to buying a Christmas dress for Alexis. Now, that isn't to say that there is anything wrong with any of these things, they just aren't right for Alexis. And maybe all of humanity.

Alexis is a Northerner. Odds are she'll have snow for Christmas, and if she doesn't? She will surely have freezing temps. It's a fact. So, why-oh-why so many places around here carry sleeveless dresses for kids is beyond me. Especially sleeveless wedding dresses parading around as Christmas dresses. In toddler sizes.

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I know, I know. That's a pretty dress. FOR ME, NOT FOR MY 2-YEAR OLD. Personal taste, n'at.

This is another one that's not all that bad:

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However, if you look REAL close, you'll notice that kid's legs are all bruised and beaten. That's because she can't see her feet around all that fluff and she's continually looking at the flower petals as they shift around inside that dress. Or, at least, that's what Alexis would do. I can absolutely picture the kid running into walls, tables, and Bulldogs while she stares at petals and tries to take the exact right step as to shift one two inches to the left.

I don't think I even need to tell you why this? Would be a VERY VERY VERY VERY bad idea for Alexis. Or any kid.

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In all honesty, that would be a bad idea for ANYONE. Especially me.

Also falling into the category of making me look real bad is this little trio:

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Sure, Alexis and I are smashing in our matching pajamas, but that's in OUR house. Not public. And we sure as hell don't include Baby Shell in our 70's retro matching scheme.

BTW, 1970 called and it wants it's velvet and gingerbread men back:

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I don't know who wants this back:

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Pink + red + green = My eyes bleeding cause I stuck a spork in them.

I have no comment:

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Nope, no comment.

Everywhere you look, there are Christmas dresses with aprons. Nothing says Stepford Wives stuck in the 60's like teaching your kid that she should be in the kitchen baking cookies with her cheery little apron on, y'know.

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But, at least the Stepford dress doesn't look like an elf costume.

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Note: Costumes are for Halloween. Any usage of them beyond the parameters of Halloween is WRONG. (I'm talking to you, Miss I Keep Dressing Up as Belle at School Every Day.)

Finally, I recently took Alexis to see Madagascar 2, which prompted her to turn into a huuuuuge fan of Gloria. We spent weeks trying to score the "girl hippo" toy at McDonald's. We failed, and I know Alexis would be very happy to find that hippo under the tree on Christmas morning. That's no reason to take things this far, though:

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Guess What!

Alexis has learned her first punchline. She doesn't know the joke, just the punchline.

Chicken butt.

She missed the part where someone is supposed to say, "Guess what?" before she starts discusses poultry derrieres. She just randomly says, "Chicken butt."

What does Alexis want for dinner? Chicken butt.

What does she think we should get Daddy for Christmas? Chicken butt.

What game should we play? Chicken butt.

As charming and hilarious as that all may seem, the never-ending mentions of chicken butt and subsequent cackles started to get on my nerves around the 4,000th repetition. So, yesterday I figured I would tackle the annoyingness head-on, instead of ignoring it like I had previously strategized.

I suggested that Alexis start leading a double life between home and school early, so as to be an overachiever who knows to change clothes in the Kindergarten bathroom, but with a little, "But don't think I don't know about it" twist. I said, "Alexis, chicken butt is only funny at school." After all, surely it was a punk-ass little boy in the preschool class that taught it to her. I don't have to KNOW to KNOW, you know?

She tried to argue my point initially, but my stone-faced insistence that "Chicken butt is only funny at school" eventually sunk into her little head. Not one to give up easily, she started asking questions.

"Momma, is chicken pee funny?"

"Is chicken face funny?"

"Is chicken poop funny?"

"Is chicken boobies funny?"

I may go to hell for lying and telling her "No."