|"So, Sundance, what you're saying is, if I bring you that miniature power tools set, it's ok because it'll give your mom things to write about? Seems legit."|
Sometimes I think there aren't enough peanut M&Ms to get anything done, and then I find a 14oz bag, keep it to myself, and think, "Yes, today I'll be accomplishing incredible things. Downright amazing things."
Speaking of accomplishments...
(Whoa, how'd she do that? Lead into that topic, without us seeing it was coming?)
That's what all the great writers do, my friends. But, as much as I appreciate your questions, today isn't about me. It's about everyone's favorite dynamic, cowboy-monikered due, Butch and Sundance.
Have they been tyrants lately? Yes. But I like to look past the eight nervous breakdowns I had last week, self-medicate with candy canes*, and remind myself they'll grow out of this stage, get bigger, and be able to break much larger things later on. So, right now is actually pretty reasonable.
*Candy canes were used as stir sticks for my alcohol in this scenario, just in case you thought I meant peppermint can fix the demolished utensil drawer in the kitchen. It cannot.
Sundance had been preparing to meet Santa for a bit. She has a fairly good grasp of what's going to be happening around Christmas, and was sure Santa was the person she needed to speak to about a new baby doll. Butch hasn't lacked in enthusiasm, but isn't totally sure what he's enthusiastic about.
They both seemed sure they wanted to meet him. Then again, they have some of my genes, so being "sure" about something can manifest itself in different ways. Like the time I was "sure" I needed running shoes for all the times I'd be running. And I still haven't pulled any YouTube videos up to show me how I'd go about doing that.
The day before:
"We're going to see Santa."
The day after:
"Ok, you guys ready to see Santa?"
"Honey? Don't you want to see Santa?"
Butch: *shakes head*
"You'd rather eat another cinnamon roll and stay where it's safe, wouldn't you?"
After procuring another cinnamon roll from the lovely people serving breakfast at the parish, I followed Sundance while she made her way ahead of me to see Santa.Worried a valuable opportunity to make a positive parenting memory was passing me by, I hurtled two parishioners and jogged to where my daughter had already begun a very serious conversation in hushed tones.
Santa nodded. Sundance nodded. And I realized my camera was dead, a terrifying fact, not because I couldn't capture the obvious cuteness, but because I was witnessing a toddler conspiring with Santa Claus to take over the world, and I had no proof.
Sundance was extremely somber when she found her way back to me. I'm not sure what was said, but I can only hope he told her he saw what happened to the kitchen drawer, and she needs to watch her step until Christmas.
She's getting the baby doll anyway. And I'm not yet desperate enough to crawl onto a stranger's lap and ask that he throw a few six packs down the chimney.
...I have Husband for that.
Until Next Time, Readers!