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Saturday, September 30, 2006

86 Shopping Days To Go
So Patrick has his wish list for Christmas - actually he's had it for some time now - and has been asking me if I think Santa will bring him what he wants. Most recently he's taken to asking me in the car on the way to the sitter's house, first thing in the morning. I think he knows I'm distracted then and might give him a straight answer, but I keep thinking I'm too clever to have to give him one.

"Mommy, do you think Santa knows what I want?" he asks me plaintively.

"Well, Patrick, if he doesn't we can always write him a letter."

"But will he get the letter in time?"

"Yes, yes, don't you worry, we'll make sure."
Patrick thinks about this...

"Mommy, do you think he'll get me what I want?"

Hmmm... "Well, he probably won't be able to get you EVERYTHING you want.."

"But why?"

"Well, Patrick, first of all, nobody gets EVERYTHING they want, but you can be sure you'll get a lot of very cool presents."

"Do you think he'll get me a Game Cube?"

Not being entirely sure what a Game Cube is, but being fairly certain it's some kind of hyper-priced video game system, I answer: "I don't know, Patrick, that's a very expensive present, OK?"

"But Santa has lots of money, Mommy."

"Ah, well, I don't really know about that -"

"No, Mommy, he does! He's very very rich, he gets presents for everybody, so he can get me a Game Cube", Patrick says with confidence.

"Yeah but Mommy and Daddy don't have lots of money" I say and immediately realize that I've made a mistake.

"Do you have to give Santa money for my presents, Mommy?"
Patrick asks, incredulous.

"Um, OK, no not really, but..."

"So if you don't have to give him money then you don't have to worry about my Game Cube because you don't have to buy it, right?"

How did I get into this? Now I can only think to say my standard answer: "Well, we'll see." There. Good answer. Doesn't address anything directly, just vague enough to mean almost anything. I can tell he's not really buying it, but at least I've ended the discussion.

Or so I thought. "Mommy, if you don't have to give Santa the money for the presents he's getting me, that means you will have lots of money to buy me OTHER presents, right?"

I need more coffee.
8:43 pm edt 

Friday, September 15, 2006

South to Drop Off, Moron


It’s the end of Patrick’s first day of Kindergarten, and I’m feeling fairly smug as I appear to be the very first person in line at the “Kiss-n-Ride” spot. (For those not in the know, Kiss-n-Ride is a cutesy-poo way to describe the area where parents line up in their cars to drop off and later pick up their kids – you don’t have to get out of the car, the teacher escorts the kids to and from).


Sure, it took me 15 minutes to FIND the Kiss-n-Ride area (in the mornings I drop him off in front of the school), and it’s pouring rain, and I forgot all the forms I was supposed to bring with me, but hey, at least I’m the first in line to pick up, right?  I mean there’s a great big sign saying “Kiss-N-Ride Starts Here” and a fat white line painted on the pavement in front of me.  It seems pretty obvious.  I wonder why all those cars in front of me were parked in the “No Parking, No Standing” zone – but hey, not my problem!  Besides, there’s plenty of room for me to drive around them after I pick up my kid.


And out comes Patrick with his new classmates (and I notice I have neglected to put him in boots, despite the forecast.  And I forgot to pack his umbrella.)  Patrick gets in the car while I am mildly chastised by his teacher for not sending those forms in, and sternly told that I have also forgotten to put his name tag on his shirt (And the Mother of the Year award goes to….).


At least I can just drive off now, kid in tow and properly strapped in, so I start to pull out and around the illegally parked cars.  Suddenly everyone’s honking at me and the teacher is back at my car window, looking even more stern – you see, although I think I’m first in line, that sign and the big fat white line LIED to me – all those people in the no-parking lane?  Are actually in line ahead of me.  And I’m not supposed to even THINK about moving until they all leave first.


Y’all remember “Mr. Mom”?  You know the scene I’m talking about?

10:10 am edt 

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