El nino wants a bb gun (beebee? BBee? TOY OF DOOM?) for Christmas and all I can think is YOU'LL SHOOT YOUR EYE OUT! And also, FRA-GEEEEE-LAY.
Cheeseball wants Barbie So In Style and Style Something Barbie and Style Barbie Style and every other combination of Barbies Whose Hair Is To Be Messed With. Which is cute, but then I find myself hunched over the bathtub trying to wash the OOH SPARKLY GLITTER PINK PASTE OOH out of the woolly matted hair of a giant Moxie Grrrrl head. Which is both uncomfortable AND creepy. And then it's all Cat in the Hat and oh boy! what's this in the tub? It's pink and it sparkles and Mom's gotta scrub!
But, whatever. It's Christmas, right? Stop being such a grinch, MOM. So I dutifully built their Amazon wishlists with them and sent them off to the G's. (Which is The Grandparents, not some generous cabal of gift-giving gangsters although that would certainly be more interesting. And now that I think about it, there really SHOULD be a gang of blinged-out, Santa pants lowriding, hard ass wish granters. Because what would make Christmas even more fun than thugs with hearts of gold?)
Where was I? Right, wishlists. So, two giant Amazon boxes have already shown up. (Thanks, Nana!) After I sent off the wishlists, I got an email from Nana asking why my wishlist always has 50+ items and the kids only have about 10 each. Well, that's because I've been building mine since before they were born and because their interests change and things come off and go on and also because NO ONE EVER BUYS ME ANYTHING OFF MINE because no one lufs me and also thanks for pointing that out. Way to call yourself out, NANA.
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