Just De-Light-Ful

We decided to get into the Christmas spirit tonight, take a spin around town, and check out some holiday lights. After several failed attempts at leaving because someone did something to someone else, resulting in a threat of calling the whole thing off, all six of us and the dog piled into the super bitchin’ Silver Bullet (that’s what I’m calling my mini-van, I just decided).

First we stopped at Caribou Coffee for some hot chocolate. Naturally there was one kid who was upset about that because he wanted “a treat” instead of hot chocolate. Then when I brought it out to the car another kid was disappointed because he didn’t want whipped cream in his.

Also I never order coffee so when I asked for a dark roast coffee of the day for Barry, I naturally forgot to specify decaf. Then I lied about it because I didn’t want him to think I was a complete fruit bat. But he’s mentioned that he feels “jittery” so this could be ugly.

We probably should have just headed home at that point.

But goddammit, we wanted to have some FUN, come hell or high water, so we turned on WLTE and their cheesy Christmas music, and went to look at some lights. You can tell that my kids are electric with the awe and wonder of this magical season by listening into some snippets of their conversation.

“Mom, it’s dark outside. I’m scared.”

“No one watches Regular Show and MAD. Except losers. So you must be a loser.”

“I want a treat now, not hot chocolate, and now I can’t finish it because I gave it to David.”

“Cameron, does Chuckie have a gun?”
“No, Chuckie has a knife.”

“Not this stupid song again.”

“I wanna go home, I’m SCARED!”

“Walkin’ in a winter poopyland.”

“Penny hates you.”
“She does not.”
“Does too.”
“No she doesn’t!”
“Does too.”

“I broke my rib at school yesterday. Seriously.”
“You didn’t break your rib. You’d be in the hospital.”
“I fell really hard. It’s cracked in two places.”

“I don’t wanna see more lights, I wanna GO HOME!”

“If I don’t get a PS3 this year, I’m gonna sue Mom.”

“I’m kicking this seat until you say you’re getting me a treat.”

“Dad, don’t yell, it’s supposed to be Christmas.”

© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2011

 

 

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