I blame Tim Allen.
Watching Santa Clause II got me all hyped for presents and cheer, and consequently my room ended up covered in tape, littered with wrapping paper--there's a bow still stuck to my desk--and crumpled post-its are everywhere saying things like 'DVD for Mom' or 'nail polish for unknown'.
My sister had told us about her friend who used to receive presents from 'the Naughty Elf', 'Santa's Mistress', or 'Rudolph's Evil Twin' instead of Santa. She thought it was creepy, but her Mom thought it was hilarious, and so did we, so this Christmas, my sister received a gift from Farmville.
New tradition? I think so.
Since I had been rudely awoken at eight thirty (a.m.!), I went back to bed after all the presents were opened on Christmas day. When I woke up several hours later, I was late, still needed a shower, and relatives were due to arrive any minute. Oops.
They arrived, I greeted them with wet hair, and the chaos descended. No one really noticed the creepy name tags, but they were still worth it.
Dinner, card games, and Cornation Street scene-it later, Christmas was over and we all stumbled into bed (literally in my case, since my parents blow up bed was in my room and there was no space to walk).
For the second time in a row, I was abruptly awoken, this time by my little cousin.
The adults were all talking downstairs, her brother was off playing a game, and she was determined to get me out of bed. In some cruel twist of fate, she is both persistant and a morning person.
I am neither. I earnestly tried to convince her that I would get up soon and meet her downstairs (yeah, right) but she shook her head and said, "Now."
I know it's lame to let a six-year-old boss you around, but she always has the option of crying. Or screaming. Or just wailing in the middle of the room until she gets her way.
...okay, I let the six-year-old boss me around.
I got out of bed. I then tried to convince that since it would take me a while to get dressed and ready, she might as well wait downstairs.
Fine. I ended up brushing her hair for thirty minutes while re-telling all the fairy tales I could think of. I think it's fair to say that she got her way.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
I blame Tim Allen.