Damn, I Need An Elf

Now why would the magical Christmas spirits punish a well meaning and oh, so hyper organized parent like myself? Way back in October about the time that this was happening I was buzzing around town getting a jump on this.

If I could have this all done and complete by this. Then I would indeed be her. And my children would be them. Complete with Alice, because let's face I could use a little help around here.

And so I shopped. The Muffin Man helped with a Costco run or two and by Thanksgiving we were wrapped, slapped, and tied up with a big ole' bow. The loot was neatly stashed into the back of Grammy and Grampy's Lexus heading off the to great white north where we would meet up with it all a nice and tidy 3 days before Christmas where we would be free to drink plenty of these while laughing snidely at those folks too stupid to start Christmas shopping at Easter. Now is when you should be singing "off to Grandmother's house we go" in your head and envisioning this, except my kids are Chinese, but you get the drift.

Except we have a problem. This child has exercised her prerogative as a woman "in training" to change her mind. Remember, Christmas shopping is done and the presents have been carefully wrapped and are conveniently out of state. Instead of whoozees and whatnots...she has clearly stated to Santa (at the mall and at the Children's museum) that she would like widgets and whizballs. Please, with a red bow on top.

Ordinarily, in past years I might have just run out and tossed a plastic card at these people. However, we have the littlest elf living with us now and what good parent in their right mind would allow Santa to bring more toys for one child than the other? I don't think she would. Oh, no Even Steven all the way baby. Not to mention the fact that we have completed 2 adoptions in 4 years, we have 2 college educations to bang our heads against the wall thinking about, and Momma currently has a slight cash flow problem, she has traded in those delightful Italian leather working boots for these. (Sad Momma kicks.) The toy train has come to a halt, and has fallen off the track.

So, instead what do the Muffin Man and I decide to do? We bought this, which in itself is so far beyond way cool except it was not what was whispered in Santa's ear. I plan to dress it up with lots of blingy bows under the tree. Hopefully when she sets eyes on this baby all other thoughts of widgets and whazoos will be a distant memory. A valuable lesson has been duly noted in the Parenting Handbook and filed under the red Christmas tab, go ahead and wait...shop with masses on the 24th.

For those of you feeling especially sad for little Ava, the deprived and unloved little soul. Her birthday is three weeks after Christmas.