I was sitting in my recliner, which is my usual modus operandi, when I decided I needed to make use of our private 'facilities' which meant passing by the kitchen. After I'd settled back down in my favorite spot in the living room, the following conversation ensued.
Me, having spied David standing in the kitchen cutting a piece of cake: I want a piece.
David: What?
Me, shouting from the living room: I want a piece
David: You need to pee?
Me: No, I said I want a piece.
David: You want what?
Me: I WANT A PIECE
David comes into the living room with a bottle of tea, opening it.
Me: What's that? I said I want a piece.
David: I thought you said you wanted tea.
Me: I said I want a piece of cake. I'll keep the tea since you've already opened it. Hand it to me.
David gives me the tea then returns from the kitchen with a WAY TOO big slice and no fork. (Is he implying I'm a pig? He's treading on thin ice now. LOL)
Me: Where's the fork? I didn't know men sighed like that.
A conversation with our three-year-old grandson, Xander.
Xander: Nana, where's you iPad?
Me: By my chair.
He fetches my iPad and comes running back to me.
Xander, handing me the iPad, says I need help logging on. Amazed that he didn't
Amazed that he didn't just start hitting random numbers like a lot of small children would do, I put in the four-digit code and hand it back while shaking my head.
Those were five words I never thought I'd hear come out of a three-year-old's mouth.
The following is a conversation with a newly reunited boy who is staying with our kids over the holiday.
Matthew, who now, apparently, wishes to be addressed by the name Alex, is standing by the Christmas tree admiring the packages that are stacked so abundantly that it looks like a department store display, asks, innocently, "Will you buy me a present for Christmas?" Me: Of course.
Me: Of course. Alex: Would you like me
Alex: Would you like me to tell you my list of what I want?
Me: Jessica (our daughter-in-law) already told me.
Alex: Oh.
He seems not so sure if I'm going to buy a present or not but he's hopeful.
Even though we haven't seen this boy in several years, I'd never want him, or any child, to feel left out. He may be 15 but I think of him as a gentle, six-foot-tall, lanky young boy who likes Legos and Star Wars.
Conversations with our five grandsons can be interesting.
Zane (7), pawing through all the gifts, looking for his name: How many presents did you get me?
Me: Maybe one. How many do you think you should get?
Zane: LOTS.
Me: Don't worry. Between your parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, and siblings, you'll get plenty.
Saul (8): What did you get me?
Me: You'll just have to wait until Christmas Eve to find out.
Saul: I can't. How long is it to Christmas?
Me: Five days.
Saul: That's too loooonnnggg!
Eli (10): It's 16 days until my birthday! I want a Nintendo Switch (whatever the heck that is) for my birthday.
Me: Don't you want to wait until after Christmas to ask for birthday presents? You don't know what you'll get.
Eli: I can't wait until my birthday. I want a chocolate cake and ice cream.
Me: Ethan, what do you want for Christmas. (I ask even though I know he likes clothes and shoes. He doesn't play with toys.)
Ethan (12): I want shoes like my daddy-o's. (This is his cute nickname for his dad, Brent.)
Unfortunately for him, they don't sell them that small. He'll have to wait a few more years for his feet to grow some more. Me: Xander, what do
Me: Xander, what do you want for Christmas?
Xander: A truck.
Me: What kind of truck?
Xander: Like Papa's.
Me: You're going to have to wait a few more years for that one, Stinky. (Stinky and Smooch are two of the nicknames his family sometimes calls him. The poor boy's going to be so confused. Ha Ha!)
It goes a little easier with the granddaughters since they're so much older. I now receive their "wish lists" via text. On the upside, at least I won't lose the list. It came in handy when I finally got around to fulfilling it.
The hundreds (it seems like hundreds) of presents are wrapped and tucked as near to the tree as I can get them, which means the poor little Santa train's tracks are most likely covered like fallen boulders in the back. This is how our days go,
This is how our days go, people, and I love every minute of it.
Merry Christmas to all.