Santa & Sundaes

There is this game we play. Matthew hands me a cotton purple soda bottle from his picnic set and I slug exaggerated gulps from it. Then I realize it is actually poisoned and promptly pass out, resulting in belly laughs.  When I “come to” Matt hands me the drink again and seconds later I’m sprawled back out on his floor.

There is a saying that having a kid is the same as agreeing to be a kid again. While Bob vacuums and dusts to prepare for our Christmas Eve party in two weeks, Matt and I busy ourselves making a fort with blankets, chairs, and pillows, in the living room. I read him Dr. Seuss’s Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You? in our tent, both of us making hand motions to the “sound” of lightning.

Just last weekend we visited an old friend’s house to make cookies. It’s a house where I have many fond memories at and very place my baby shower was held but with a one-year-old in tow it transformed into a house of doom. Open stairwells, scissors and knitting needles menacingly poking out the tops of baskets and tote bags, glass casing around a stereo, and a piano were some of the dangers I noticed while looking around. While the rest of us made cookies Matthew roamed about wearing adult sized crocs he had thieved from somewhere, and carrying a jar of sprinkles. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw him clomping towards me carrying a china teapot. Once the task of cookie decoration/feasting began to feel a little redundant, the three adults and Matthew sat down to watch Elmo’s Christmas Countdown, perhaps the start of what may become a new holiday tradition in years to come.

On the subject of traditions, we put up our tree. Then of course there was the visit to Santa. Matthew and Santa’s meeting was successful if not met by little resistance on Matthew’s part. Afterwards we enjoyed our sundae topped with the works in a room lit by Christmas trees.