We had a lot of Christmas this year.
It officially started with the Christmas Eve Children’s Service, in which Sunny played a Cabbage Patch Doll, and I played the Voice of a Cabbage Patch doll. Sunny didn’t like the doll’s outfit, so we dressed her in a strapless gown filched from Sunny’s American Girl doll, on the theory that she has such an extensive wardrobe, she wouldn’t miss it. The gown matched the color of Sunny’s own Christmas dress.
Unfortunately, Cabbage Patch dolls aren’t built to wear strapless gowns and Sunny wasn’t overly careful about sitting like she was wearing a skirt instead of jeans, so I spent a good deal of time pulling the doll’s dress up and Sunny’s dress down.
Jane was Mary, and wore a beautiful blue scarf that she hadn’t because it covered the peacock streaks in her hair, which she was secretly hoping would impress the boy playing Joseph. She doesn’t like him in that way, Mom, Jeez! but it was still disappointing.
I was wearing my usual green polyester choir robe, which covered all sins from the neck down.
Can I get an Amen?
The next morning was sheer chaos, but it started after my first cup of coffee—
there are benefits to having children who are too wound up from late dinners and the prospects of Santa to go to sleep before eleven—
so I didn’t care.
Luckily, this year’s holiday madness included my brother-in-law’s girlfriend, who is a terrific photographer, so most of it was documented a lot better than in previous years, which, as some of you might recall, tended to feature my photobombing thumb.*
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We upheld many venerable traditions,
including awesomesocks:
. . . which this year also meant things made out of awesomesocks, from the kits Mom gave both kids.
This is Sunny’s “Sockraties”.
(We are not arguing with the spelling. He is not ours.)
There were favorite presents.
I received a lot of jewelry this year, which isn’t a complaint. I love the malachite set that the kids gave me and the chain my husband gave me for my favorite pendant–or gave himself, really, since he won’t have to battle with the clasp on my old chain–and the beautiful bracelet my folks sent me that is still firmly attached to its theft-proof box, but this one, given to me by my BIL and his girlfriend, photographed best.
It makes my wrist happy.
One Little Girl From School.
Santa gave Sunny and Jane fans in their stockings. They learned to unfurl, snap, flirt, and smack their uncle on the head.
Good times.
Sunny received these at 8am Christmas morning. By the time she went to bed, they had only been OFF her feet a cumulative two hours.
She likes being tall.
Santa gave Jane Pokemon cards.
This is, apparently, a super-extra-rare-Somethingagon, which is just as confusing when it isn’t all fuzzy.
And yes, I took this photo. Hush.
Watson mailed us a big ol’ box of Texas, most of which came from Buc-ee’s and most of which is, theoretically, edible.
The Beaver Nuggets are very tasty.
And Reindeer Games.
The photographer might have arranged this one a bit while one of the subjects was having an after-brunch snooze.
This captures not only a forty-year Wesson family tradition of ringing the bells as you pass underneath the felt Santa, but also the moment just before Sunny grabbed instead of swatted.
Santa is expected to make a full recovery, once the glue dries.
We even introduced a new tradition, we hope:
The Wesson Christmas piñata.
Regarding the enemy.
Smacking the leg off the enemy with the soon-to-be-traditional Inexplicable Kendo Stick of Righteousness.
(“Inexplicable” because I didn’t know we owned one, and no one can explain why we do.)
Victory!
The traditional Wesson Victory Dance!
(It’s true. I’ve seen it before.)
To the Victors go the spoils. And clown noses.
The *funniest* part of this is when she leaned over the basket of goodies and tried, loudly and unsuccessfully—all three times—to blow it off her nose.
Two out of five adults and one older sister were appalled and disgusted. The rest of us were too busy laughing to speak.
How was your Thursday?
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*Those of you with discerning eyes—or just, you know, eyes—will be able to tell which ones are hers and which are mine. Even if I had a quarter of her talent (nope) my phone app is no match for her professional-grade camera, with special lens attachment. And she also gets up and moves around for shots, which I also do not.
Earful of Cider 