Santa, Baby

"Who is this scary dude?"

I recently found this picture of EB, taken when she was just a year old. At this young age, eight out of ten Santa photo shoots end disastrously: screaming baby, cajoling parents, and a resigned Santa. In our case, Santa had visited her daycare for the photo opp, and needless to say, EB was terrified. As for Santa…just look at this poor devil. He’s ready for his next shot of Jack Daniels.

Fast forward to three years later, and EB is at an age where Santa Claus is THE MAN. During the few months leading up to Christmas, she talked about him non-stop, planning Santa's Christmas treats and “writing” him letters. While K had believed in Santa when he was a child, I was never taught to believe in Santa—and let’s face it, it’s the parents that are responsible for fueling the Santa make-believe fire. So I admit, teaching EB about Santa is probably more for me than it is for her.


Here is a picture of EB’s letter that she typed--strings of random letters and numbers that she typed into the keyboard. However, she made sure Santa saw all of her “good job” stickers she had collected in the past few months. It's a documented confirmation that she was, indeed, a good girl this year. The girl knows how to make her case--a future lawyer perhaps?

Proof's in the good job stickers

K and I pulled out the Santa Card too often this Christmas season, telling EB that Santa expected a final progress report from us before he determined whether or not she was gift-worthy. Once, during a particularly terrible bout of temper tantrum (legs and arms flailing, rolling around on the floor), K threatened to call Santa to report her behavior. EB shot straight up, eyes popping out, and charged K with such force that she almost knocked him over: “NOOOOOO…..DON’T CALL SANTA!!!! I’ll stop!”


EB was rest assured on Christmas Day, when she woke up with stocking full of treats that she had asked for (along with an electronic Dora toothbrush because Santa would hate for her teeth to rot), along with two gifts she had specifically asked Santa to bring (a train and a tractor), our gifts, and Grandma’s gifts galore. She was so excited that she came running into our room, eyes beaming: "Santa came last night!!!" 


I hope the magic stays alive for may more years to come. 

No more crying...

"Santa, I want a train and a tractor..."

  

Snippets from our cruise

Missed me?

We had been gone for the past two weeks on our annual family cruise.  Last year was our first attempt, and it almost ended disastrously--plenty of tears and tantrums (and EB was cranky too). This year was way better, and I must say, it’s starting to grow on me. When you live over a thousand miles from your family, you have two choices for a family reunion: 1. Gather under one roof for a week straight, slowly driving one another insane, or 2. Meet at a neutral ground (e.g. cruise/trip of some sort), spend some time together, some time apart, relax, take silly classes you would've never imagined taking. We all prefer option 2.

We departed from Galveston on a 7-day cruise in Western Caribbean. As soon as we got into our room, EB began clamoring for the top bunk bed. Last year the top bunk bed was off-limits as I feared that she would roll over and fall seven feet down. But this year, I relented, warning her: “Be careful, you may roll off the bed and hurt yourself." EB retorted: "I won't roll over, Mommy. I'm not round like an orange!”

..........

K and I had assumed that they would have some song and dance routine for entertainment on our first cruise night. We thought EB would like music and dancing, so we got to the show early and found a good spot, smack in the middle of the aisle, about eight people deep on each side. Turned out the entertainer was some low-grade comedian, not very funny one at that. As expected, EB quickly got bored, but given where we were seating, there was no way out lest we step on eight sets of toes. So we toughed it out.

EB (in loud voice): “Mommy, why he can’t stop talking?”

Me (whispering): “Not so loud…he’s talking because he’s trying to be funny.”

EB (in loud voice, right when the auditorium was relatively quiet): “Mommy, why he’s trying to be funny?”

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An important part of the cruising experience is the food, glorious food. Buffet, every day, seven days straight, all you can eat. And nobody, I mean NOBODY does it like my family. Here’s a typical breakfast schedule:

9 AM : Mom and Dad picks up EB to go to breakfast. K and I laze around for half an hour, then goes upstairs to join them

9:45 AM: Mom, Dad and Bro (from hereon out, I will refer to them as the Buffet Trio) are done with their first round of food, generally consisting of egg, some type of breakfast meat, and smoked salmon.

10 AM: The Buffet Trio are up for their second round, generally consisting of some type of bread, cheese, juice and fruit

10:30 AM: The Buffet Trio is still eating, wonders how come K, EB and I are already done eating

10: 45 AM: The Buffet Trio is looking around, smacking their lips, ready for their last round of food (usually a toss-up between more fresh fruit or more smoked salmon)

11 AM: The Buffet Trio is finally done with breakfast and moves onto planning their lunch strategy.

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No matter what cruise line you go on, there are drunken, tacky people, drinking too much, acting inappropriately.

Dad and Mom were looking down at the pool/hot tub deck with a grin.

Me: “Why are you grinning? Do you see something?”

Dad: “See that big guy over there in a hot tub, with a drink in his hand?”

Me: “Yea...the guy next to the big lady with the bikini that’s too small for her?”

Mom, jumping in: “The guy just grabbed the big girl’s breasts, both of them, in broad day light.”

..........

When you’re on a cruise, you the last thing you need to worry about is being bored. There are activities glore, including dance classes, rock-climbing, roller-blading, wine tasting, even napkin artistry.

Bro: “Do you think it would be weird for me to go to a napkin artistry seminar?”

Me: “Umm…in a word…yes.”

Bro: “But they say that it would be a good place for me to meet women.”

Me: “Sure….if you want to meet 80 year old cougars.”

K: “By the time you’re 80, you’re no longer a cougar, you’re a saber-missing-tooth tiger.”

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I couldn't find one single picture that encapsulates our trip, so here 

are a few of my favs. In no particular order.

Monkeying around

A kiss from the girl of his dreams

Racin' is my game

Mom & Bro, tempting fate on the high seas

Future derby girl

Happy Birthday, Baby!

EB turned four today! I can't believe it's already been four years since her arrival. It feels like she was just a baby yesterday...then blink...she’s a pre-schooler, bursting with energy, asking “whys” all of the time, filling K and I with awe and wonder.

Enjoying her birthday treat

We kept the day relatively low-key since she had an early birthday party a couple of months back. But, we wanted to bring cupcakes to her school so that she could celebrate with her classmates. As luck would have it, a friend had a fresh batch of blue, yellow and green frosting leftover from a cake she had made the very same day, so I was able to give EB’s cupcakes some flare without much effort. Check them out.

OK, the green one on the left is a bit messed up.

I was proud; even a bit smug. Until I was reminded that not only did I use a boxed cake mix, but also, someone else made the colored frosting. Hmmph. No matter, EB loved the cupcakes, and couldn’t wait to show them off at school.

Happy birthday, Little Girl. May you always be the happy, curious, amazing person that you are.