Hello November.

Hello there people who read this blog, i.e. John. There are no specific reasons (lazy and too much wine) to explain my absence of late. Perhaps it is that the very minutia of my life these past weeks begins with “B” and ends with an “oring”. Not that it can ever be that, for life is never boring when you have an Owen and a Maggie.

The other evening, while reading stories to Owen and in a blatant attempt get him to behave better, I asked him what he wanted for Christmas from Santa. Now that Halloween is over, I can ask this question ever single freaking day until December 24 and quickly follow it with: “You know, Owen, Santa keeps a list of everything you do and if there are more bads than goods you don’t get any presents. I don’t say you get coal, because then Owen would say, “Mama, what is coal?” Thinking it something extremely cool and something he must possess. This would lead him to purposefully choose the “wrong” thing to do in order to achieve this fated and glorious coal of which I speak. That is how he is, curious (and insane). I just enforce that he will receive nothing since nothing in the eyes of a child is something huge - nothing! Oh hells to the no.

So I asked him what he wanted from Santa. He then proceeded to say, “A new Cars 2 blanket”, (officially ousting Toy Story 3 as his Pixar movie of choice). He also said wanted the “Fresh Beats.” If you are not familiar with Fresh Beat, I give you this:


I could have linked a video, but the viewing of such a travesty would cause the immediate mush of your central cortex, followed by leaking out of your left ear to be forever gone and you forever changed for the worse. You can thank me later. But then he said he wanted a guitar, drums, and keyboard. So I think I will get him this:


One man bad bitches!

I proceeded to ask him what he thought Maggie would like for Christmas, keeping with the theme of good behavior for a bounty of goods. He looked at me and said, “Mama, Maggie would like a Barbie, a car and (dramatic pause) poop.” “Owen, are you saying that Maggie wants poop?” “Yes, Mama, she told me.” “She told you she wanted poop?” “Yep, today. She wants poop. Maggie is really funny. She’s crazy.” Okay then.

And there you have it, not the most exciting of daily adventures, but certainly not boring.