Making Christmas Lists

It's that time of year... for kids to ask for everything they see in every commercial on the planet for the next month. When I was a kid, I was a victim of the crazed greed and desire, much like today's youth. So much so, I would – just like Helena does – ask everybody for the same thing. Probably why I ended up with three copies of the Pound Puppies game when I was seven. Everyone just wants to make the kids happy.

While Helena is no exception to this rule, and has requested the same presents from roughly 20 people, she is not immune to generosity. The other night, as I was cooking dinner, potentially complaining about the innumerable amount of tasks awaiting completion once my break was over (yes, dinner is my break). My sweet, little Hellcat retorts with, "You know, Mom... it's the time of year where you can ask for anything you want. Like, maybe you want a robot. He could cook for you... and clean the house... and do all the stuff you don't want to, so we could play Little Big Planet... You just ask Santa and he'll give it to you. You've been good."

Now, thanks to her I've got 'house-cleaning, meal-cooking, errand-running robot' topping my Christmas list. Cmonnnnnnnn, Santa!

This year, we got a real tree for the first time since I was a kid. I forgot what it was like to walk through the lots and smell all that fresh pine. We found the most awkward, green, leaning, Dr. Seuss-esque tree we could and knew it was meant to be. After many struggles to get the slanting tree to stand as upright as possible without falling over, we finally won the battle.

We hung ornaments last night, while listening to the Christmas music Helena has insisted be the only thing playing for the past two weeks. (Jordon commented how he liked Feliz Navidad, and I told him to give it a couple more days and he wouldn't.) As we decorated the tree, the three of us discussed how odd it must be from the tree's perspective.

"First, they cut me down and take me away from my family. Then, they lean me against a fence in a parking lot where all these strange people come to feel my branches. Sheesh, buy a guy a drink first! I get wrapped in plastic netting, tied to the top of a car, and see my life flash before my eyes as I slide around during the blistery drive. I get screwed into a stand, where I'll get only enough water to keep me alive another month or so, and they put all this godforsaken crap on me. All this tinsel is itchy and some of these ornaments are really heavy."

But thankfully, trees can't talk so we don't have to feel guilty about our silly traditions as humans. Besides, he's only got another month to live.