The Toddler That Broke Christmas

The Toddler That Broke Christmas
Originally uploaded by Sheepish.

This Christmas, my gift has been to realize an essential difference between boys and girls. No, not that one. I've been aware of that for some time now. I've got kids of my own, remember?

What I've learned is closely related to the old cave-man-carrying-a-club thing. I've known for quite a while now that my sweet, gentle two-year-old son is fascinated by sticks. He's constantly trying to play with his own (but that's irrelevant here). He's also always picking them up outside. He isn't forming a collection, though. See, this gentle little guy is actually a little beast (in a sweet way, I swear). He loves to beat on things with the sticks he amasses. It's a boy thing, I've been assured. And, I must admit my girl never once had the idea to do that until she saw him having so much fun.

What's really disturbing, though, is what you see in the plate in the picture there (never mind how disturbing it is that I would actually take a picture of it). This is the part where I stand up in a room full of sad-looking thirty-somethings and say (holding my candle in front of my chest, of course)," Hi, my name is Krista, and I'm the mother of a destructive toddler." That's about the time that everyone in the room bursts out laughing, saying, "Oh, is that all?"

I suspect it's normal, but, people, will I ever be able to purchase nice things again? I was raised by parents who taught me that it's best to buy quality merchandise and take good care of it for a really long time. I like this idea, but kids don't seem to fit into the plan. That plate there is my proof. Yeah, so what if they're not high quality Christmas ornaments. Does that give you the right to rip off poor Santa's arm? How's he supposed to deliver the gifts now? I actually thought for a few minutes there that we were in for another of those Bobbitt moments, but my daughter finally found the hand. Oddly enough, it was able to slip right back into the hole it came from. That's when Lambchop #1 decided he didn't need that Coke glass after all. Of course, that little removal was permanent.

On the bright side, Lambchop #1 wrote her very first word today. On the fridge. With non-washable ink. I'm trying to move past that and concentrate on the fact that she actually knows how to spell Noel. Not bad for a four-year-old who can't yet spell her own name. Shows you where the priorities lie.