Christmas presents....

A dear friend asked me if the girls enjoyed Christmas (yes), and whether or not they got a favorite present.

So I thought about the BEST present they got. My answer? The girls got a toddler table (you know, short to the ground) and chairs just their size for the front room. M and I LOVE it because now they aren't fighting to be on the same, adult-sized chair at the desk that used to be in that room....said fighting led to some bumps and bruises. Toddlers falling off of chairs is bad. Being able to leave the room for a few minutes (to um, oh I don’t know, do something phenomenal like use the bathroom without needing to take everyone with me) is good!

But then, I thought about how the girls might have answered.

I bet that Monkey would tell us her favorite present is the safety light on a stick that "Santa" (aka Granddad) included as a stocking stuffer. It flashes! It can be annoyingly blinding to sisters and moms alike! You can whirl it on its string as a weapon!

And I bet that Jellybean would pick the talking book: she turns the pages, and Grandma and Andpa's voices narrate the pages! Loudly! Again and again and again and again and again!

It's all relative, right?

Gifts

Have you ever noticed that the gift often tells more about the giver than the recipient?

To illustrate:

On Christmas eve, Monkey wore an adorable red corduroy dress with black scotties on it. A gift from Nana. On Christmas day, Monkey wore a scrumptious dress with a crinoline and matching red & green barrettes (with wee jingle bells!), also from Nana. And on Christmas day, Monkey opened up a present from Nana - an adorable jumpsuit with a velvet collar.

On Christmas eve, Monkey was allowed to "open" (and by this I mean gleefully shred the paper) one present from Grandma, a stuffed animal puppy dog that talks, plays songs, and chatters away when you press its nose, paw, belly, etc. On Christmas day, Monkey received another riotous, joyfully noisy present from Grandma, in the form of an electronic keyboard shaped like a kitty cat, complete with a microphone for impromptu karaoke sessions. Grandma also gave her a little yellow duck that quacks when squeezed.

Now, pop quiz:

Who do you think has a walk-in closet, and an annual shopping trip with the girlfriends to NYC?

Now, who do you think has kept a basket of toys in the front-hall closet, "just in case" a kid stopped by?

I bet you guessed correctly!

Now, to be fair - both are smashing dressers, and both love toys. Still, it makes me chuckle!

Eeny, meeny, miney mo.....

So, as Christmas approaches and our mailbox swells with wonderful holiday notes from friends and family near and far....we feel guilty that we haven't even bothered to THINK about Christmas cards.

So, we think about it. We think about the time that we have (um, not much). We think about the list of friends and family we would write to (um, tons - woohoo!). We debate about which picture of Monkey we would insert/use in the card............and the whole process grinds to a halt.

Why? Well, because I have a fab-U-lous digital camera (the Canon Rebel Xti...I'm in love with it, seriously) and have a gazillion photos of Monkey on our computer. There are just too many photos! True confession - I keep even the bad photos. Yup, I keep the photos where she clearly has a huge booger dangling out of her nose...because I am that much in love with my daughter. (And besides, how else would I be able to blackmail her with when she's a teenager?)

Last night, after several nights of retiring to bed as soon as Monkey did (another bout of bronichitis, compliments of a cold I got from my daughter who, unlike me, shook it off like a lab shaking water from its glossy fur...), I decided to be productive and pick out one photo for our Christmas card.

After 45 minutes of noodling about in iPhoto, I realized that I had only gotten to the photos of Monkey at age 6 months - and she is now 16 months old! I had ten more months to go!!

Ufda.

So, I resorted to an honored tradition for making weighty decisions....I put together a short list of my favorites, and then went eeny, meeny, miney mo....

Because seriously, what else would you expect from a woman that keeps a magic eight ball on her desk at work? heh.