Merry Friggin’ Christmas

I’m buried in wrapping paper and presents. We purchase so many gifts every year that we have to have a spreadsheet to track them all, lest we forget someone. Personally, I’d be fine with a hand-written list jotted on the back of a Christmas card envelope, which is how I used to do it. But someone in my house firmly believes that all of life can be neatly categorized in Excel spreadsheets, and so that’s what we do. Don’t tell him I said this, but it’s actually quite handy as we have a running record of our gift giving and it’s saved us from giving the same thing twice. I even created a tab for my Christmas card list, so I’m being sucked right into the nerd vortex that swirls around my husband.

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Logic

This morning, I begged Zoe to get dressed. “C’mon, Zo, we have to leave to go Christmas shopping. Please get dressed.”

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Chocolate’s ailment

Many times, Zoe’s “babies” have the same ailments as she. Hoot has thrown up (as you all know) and had sore feet and knees (owls have knees?) and tummy aches. A few weeks ago, he got his finger caught in the tire swing s-hook just like Zoe did. So it’s not a surprise when she announces that one of them isn’t feeling well and then elaborates.

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Well, duh

Tonight, after I picked up Zozer from school and drove us home, and pulled into the garage and shut off the car and reached around to unbuckle her from the car seat amidst her hat, gloves, Hootie, HeartSaysKissMe, and a book, we had this conversation:

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