...so of course, I told her it was canceled. Christmas, too. Rather than weep, she glared at me, and I feared that I may be getting cudgeled soon. Good. Toughen her up.
Little bitch still believes in Santa, so she wins every argument about so and so toy being too expensive by simply huffing and saying "well fine...I'll just get Santa to get it for me..." How do you trump that one? I'm not going to be the one she still hates when she's 35 and has kids of her own. Better you than me.
So she just won't get the stuff, and she'll hate Santa instead. Transference. Works for me.
I woke up this morning with part of a poem stuck in my head:
I awoke on the floor
all covered with sin
he'd knocked at my heart
and I'd let him come in...
Johnny is psyched about his imminent birthday, as well. Making plans. Nat chose a 'Sprinkle Cake', and I am lobbying Johnny for carrot cake. Though he'll likely pick something nasty, and child-like. Sprinkle Cake...ptui!
Last night the wife got a big, fresh loaf of French bread, sliced it up thick, toasted it in the oven, then dipped it in the egg mix and pan-fried it. She made up some fresh apple topping, we added Cool Whip to taste (shut up, I love Cool Whip) and genuine Costco maple syrup. Damn, that was good. I'm a lucky man. We had Jimmy Dean's original sausage, too. That's my (our) favorite.So much better than all these weird flavors they're doing nowadays.
Well, I'm mostly just sitting around making sure the kids don't kill themselves or each other, while the wife works. My arthritis is giving me fits.
Y'all have a great weekend...