Thursday, December 31, 2009

Break out the bubbly

Christmas day is normally when kids get to break all of their new toys. I guess Barbara the bubble hog decided that it was her turn to play with David's new gun all morning. Destructo Dave is not one to be easily thwarted and eventually resorted to using his bare hands to destroy the evil bubbles.

After hours of listening to David scream 'pleeeeeaaaase, Barbara' and 'give it back, it's mine', I stopped laughing and went inside. The boys finally came in, too, and Grams put them straight to work.

Thanks to Barbubble, David was still bawling his eyes out when he helped Grams, in case anyone wants to know why the stuffing was so moist this year. Mmmm, nothing beats the taste of tear-soaked bread cubes baked in the cavity of a dead animal.

Tom is still at that age where he learns a new trick almost every day. Today, he amazed us with how he could walk through glass doors.

You would think that after two or ten times of smashing his head on glass, he would eventually realize that there was a reason his forehead was hurting and maybe, I don't know, stop. Not Tom, though - that boy has got determination. Kinda like Mama, only I use a different word.

After an hour of head banging, even Ozzy Osbourne needs to sit down for a while and either giggle or eat a bat.

Tommy didn't chow down on a flying rodent, but he did find Opa and Barb's 'Thirsty & Hungry' show to be quite amusing. Can you guess which one is thirsty?

That's right, it's Bubbalina! I guess this morning's traumatic bubble hoarding wasn't enough to tickle her nose. I'm sorry, but that's where I draw the line. Making the kids cry - fine. Funny, even, if Angie's not around, but bogarting the Cristal? Come on.

Dinner was excellent, especially the stuffing. Thanks, David. Thanks, Barb.

Between Christmas and New Year's, we stayed with the theme of stuffing our faces and invited Sami and Kika over to make us Raclette.

Angie had threatened death warrants if they didn't bring enough food, so we ended up with enough cheese to choke Wisconsin. My bowels hate you.

After dinner, drinks were to be had by all, even little kids with big mouths.

I was a little worried about Lauri's obvious drinking problem, but when he got behind the wheel of the bucket, I really got concerned. I even sent Tom in to talk some nonsense into him.

After drunken baby demolition derby, we exchanged Christmas gifts. David loves puzzles and got a really cool one from Kika. It was a kick-ass 3-D globe, but unfortunately, Mama took it away from David mere seconds after he opened it.

In David's defense, he did try several times to rationalize with Mama.

'Mama, I are a big boy - I make this puzzle, now - okay?'
'Honey, don't touch. You'll break what we have so far.'

'Mama - I do it now, okay?'
'Stop grabbing, okay - it's almost done!'

'But dat is mine, Mama. Kika gave me it. Not you.'

'Listen! It's not that easy! Anyway, the box says 6+, so just go play in your room while I build this.'

I guess the whole 'stealing toys from children' runs in the family. At least nobody tried getting in the way of Tommy's 'Battle Horse Royale'.

After taming the Horse Screamer, Sebastian stopped by for a round of Birthday Poker.

I'm just glad he did not break out his birthday suit. Happy Birthday, buddy!

During the winter break, our TV broke. It's okay - I can talk about it now. At least it was good timing. What, with the kids being home all day with nothing to do - who needs the TV? Let me answer that quite clearly. Me.

Luckily, Opa is like that guy in prison who can get you anything. He knew a guy who knew a guy who likes watching TV - the next thing we knew, our TV was ready to be picked up.

I broke the law and let Peter ride shotgun. That's nothing, though. If you look across the street, you'll see Destructo Dave in the driver seat of Opa's not-so-Smart. He's not even wearing a seat belt, but my precious was bubble-wrapped and safe in the back seat, so all was well in my car.

When we got back to the house, Brian and Dalia had showed up to pick up their Christmas gifts. Whatever, Brian - outta the way, man, you're blocking the TV. Mama Meanie intervened and turned off my precious, mumbling something about being social. Whatever, Ms. Manners, shouldn't your Face be in a Book somewhere being all 'social' and stuff?

In the end, giving Brian their gifts turned out to be rather entertaining.

See, Brian and Clarice are obviously trying to catch up with us and gave Dalia a shiny new sister for Christmas - Elina. Angie thought that it would be cool to give Elina a 'hand print kit'. We had gotten one when Peter was just a little critter and thought it was cute. So cute, in fact, that Angie had immediately stuffed it back in the box after taking Peter's handprint and carving his name in it.

This box has been sitting on the shelf collecting dust for the past five years. At some point, Angie had gotten another one, almost exactly the same, which she put on the shelf as well. Not being one to think, Angie forgot to check the contents before wrapping, which resulted in Brian's puzzled look as he opened the used clay hand print with 'Peter' sketched into it. Um, thanks - I'm sure that, uh...Elina will, you it.

On that note, I had to leave the house. I went shopping, which is kinda like another manly task that I routinely volunteer for - cooking. Before you label me, consider these two facts - I go shopping alone and as the cook, I am the only human allowed in the kitchen.

While I was out enjoying the sweet solitude of groceries, Angie was obviously not paying attention to our children at all. I have to say - I'm not surprised. At some point, Angie ran a bath. I can only assume that she was busy CrackBooking when Tommy made his move.

Either my boots stink or Tommy wanted to do his own sink or drown experiment. Probably both, but in addition to limes, potatoes, and raisins - Dr. Martens do not float. I was quick to point out that little babies don't float, either, but Mama jumped in with comments like 'not funny' and 'you're so hot'.

Speaking of not-so-funny-looking hotties, check out the Principessa. Nice tongue.

In addition to wit, temper, and homemade Limoncello, Sarah brought a lentil soup to kick off our New Year's eve bash. It was delish, but our boys are already fully capable of producing smells, thank you very much. I really don't think they need any encouraging bean products, even if they are good for the heart.

After dinner, the kids decided to make bursting noises of a different smell.

These indoor poppers are harmless, unless you ask poor little petrified Chiara. Man, check out that scream!

To calm things down a bit, Angie showed the kids how to use a crack spoon.

Somehow, my jokes about CrackBook aren't so funny now. She tried defending herself with some bullshit story about the tradition of melting metal figures and dumping them in water to predict fortunes in your future. Whatever, Marion Barry. Denial is always the first stage, and she was probably too high on liquid smack to realize that the kids had already moved on to setting things on fire.

Angie is a pro when it comes to burning shit, so she was completely in her element. Tom has been breaking a lot of things lately and his fascination with fire only further signalled that he will probably follow in David's muddy, disgusting, stinky footprints, rather than Peter's, who was busy comforting our cat.

Gizma is 17 years old and has not been doing so well, lately. She very recently lost her sight and only eats if we hand feed her shaved turkey. We do, by the way, so don't freak out and call PETA on us.

All in all, she is dealing with blindness rather well. She has the layout of the zoo in her memory and can still make her way about. Her excellent sense of smell and David and Tom's funkiness alert her of potential threats and so far, she still manages to escape. When the fireworks started, though, she completely lost it.

Gizma's favorite hiding spot is under our stove. When the firecrackers started popping shortly before midnight, she was on the sofa in the living room. In a blind panic, she jumped down and tried headbutting her way through our living room door. David has tried this, too, but for completely different reasons. At least Peter was there to pet her and lead her to the kitchen.

At midnight, we dragged the other animals to the streets to witness and enjoy the New Year's display.

Tom was being a baby and just fell asleep. Peter had seen fireworks before and was impressed, but not awed. For David, though, it was a whole new experience. I looked down and actually recognized a look that very rarely falls across his face: fear.

'Davey, come here. Are you scared?'

Without hesitation, David climbed up into my arms and whispered in my ear.

'I'm scared. But I like it.'

Without realizing it, he accurately described how I feel about my little babies growing up so damn fast.
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I saw the fireworks.
David: When the explode spook everywhere and from there up in the sky phfkew, pang, boom!
2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: That it was too loud.
David: When I can't not there down forever play with the fire crackers.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To give you tomorrow a gift.
David: To play with Peter animals and then I make pang, boom and fire on them in the sky!

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