Mine. Mine. Mine.

Mila has a pretty solid grasp on the English language. While it's Alexis who could teach a class on using their/they're/there properly, Mila is well on her way. She can absolutely differentiate between I, she, mine, yours, and all of that. She doesn't need to speak in the third person.

Not that "needing to" is the same as "choosing to." She often speaks in the third person just because she wants to, I suppose. "Mila needs candy" is so much more effective than "I need candy." It's cuter.

Regardless, Mila does a pretty fantastic job with her words.

That's why this thing with the Christmas trees is so confusing. When I say, "Mila's tree," I mean the one in Mila's bedroom. It is hers. All of the ornaments on it are hers. There is no contesting the keeper of that tree.

Mila agrees. She says, "That's my tree," when we walk in her room. It's all most excellent.

The other trees, though. For some reason, she says, "That's my tree," when she's talking about them, too. She says that the tree with motion ornaments on it is hers. She claims the big one in the family room is hers. She even lays claim to all of the small ones that still don't have lights on them. All of them. Hers.

But they can't be. Because they're mine.

I don't know what game she thinks she's playing, but I hope Mila realizes that being a toddler isn't reason enough for me to stand down.

MY. TREES.

BACK OFF, TINY HUMAN.

Can't Stop Believing. I Think.

Houston, we have a little problem.

Both of my girls are pranksters. They both love to mess with me and will fall over laughing as they say or do something to ruin my day. This is a known fact.

That's why I'm not sure if Alexis is screwing with me or if she seriously is all in on the Elf on the Shelf thing. Still.

We're one week from the dumb thing making its stupid appearance for the year. In my head, this  was the year when the Elf would be more for Mila and less for Alexis. This was also the year that maaaaybe I wouldn't have to have anything to do with it because Alexis. I was planning on letting Alexis move the dumb thing around. Better her than me, after all.

But.

But tonight she reminded me about how last year Mila touched the Elf and it was so awful and, and, and, and ... and.

Alexis doesn't know. I thought she knew, but she doesn't, so now I'm still stuck in the middle of Elfomania.

Unless she's messing with me. Which is possible.

UGH.

Decorating Our Future

It's half past November, so of course I'm in the midst of putting up all of the Christmas trees. Before you try to give me grief about the fact that there are eleven Christmas trees fully lit and decorated in my house, two things:

1. Did you hear that little thing about Tangerine Mussolini getting elected? LET ME HAVE MY HAPPY, DAMMIT.

2. I'm not even halfway done and there are just a few days separating us from Thanksgiving. I probably won't finish by then, especially if people keep giving me grief. I have to buy a new tree every time someone complains about what I do in my own home, you know.

So, I'm allowed to have some Christmas trees and stuff. We're all in agreement? We're all in agreement.

Ahem.

Most of the trees go up pretty easily, but there is one that is rather beastly. I've had help a bunch of years in a row, which is good because I find joy in having someone look at me like I'm nuts when I haul out six tubs of ornaments.

Six REALLY FULL tubs of ornaments.

The thing about the beastly tree is that there isn't much tree showing when it's fully decorated. The trick to a super matchy tree with cheap ornaments is that you need ALL of the cheap ornaments. Overkill is good. Promise.

It takes a few hours to achieve overkill perfection. Even with multiple people helping.

This year it wasn't just the adults who helped. Alexis was also genuinely helpful. She was in charge of many parts of the tree decorating and did most of her work happily. She's a fifth grader, though, so I think she's contractually obligated to do at least a little whining. So she did. She whined about all of the work.

The friend that was helping us is all in on my crazy, so she was poking back at Alexis' whining. It reached a point where Alexis was asked how many trees she would have when she's an adult. 20 plus like me?

Alexis was quick to clarify that she's nowhere near as crazy about Christmas trees as I am. She explained that they are too much work so she would be limiting herself to a nice, sane number of trees.

Like 10.

Seriously.

Alexis thinks 10 Christmas trees is a nice, low, sane number.

My work here is done, people.