Tuesday, December 25, 2007


Of course, the children woke us up at the crack of dawn...

McKenna and Dakota in the insane mess of Christmas morning...

Whitney and her new monster doll... :)

Christmas Day

The morning came too early for an old man like me, but not soon enough for three excited children. They were delirious with anticipation and could hardly hold still long enough for me to take our first photograph of the day. There were gifts to open, wrapping paper to destroy, and candies to eat.

The holiday goods were somewhat smaller than other years, but everyone was happy with their plunder. Dakota got his legendary Wii (he paid for half), while the girls got the art sets they really wanted.

Rhonda got a bunch of movies, and ended up providing the entertainment for the rest of the day. All the movies were from the 80s, Little Shop of Horrors, The Gods Must Be Crazy II, and the original Hairspray with Ricki Lake.

In any case, Christmas Day was a time to recover from the trauma of Christmas Eve.

Christmas Eve

I had high hopes for Christmas Eve. My family arrived for a beautiful turkey dinner I worked to prepare all morning. My sisters began to catch me up on the events of several months apart, and our children played noisily in the other room.

Just as we were about to eat, I burned the sweet potatoes for the second time in one day. I should have taken that as some kind of sign to slow down, but I charged ahead and tried to salvage the blackened mess.

Just then, we heard a scream in the other room, and then my nephew ran in holding his mouth, blood dripping onto the kitchen floor. "What happened?!?" we all shouted together.

"The dog bit him!" my sister cried.

Unbelievable! In five years my dog has never even growled at another living being, much less shown enough aggression to bite. I was dumbfounded, but they said my nephew had gotten into his face and teased the dog to the breaking point.

My mother held a wash cloth over my nephew's mouth; blood was still dripping to the floor. "We better look at it," someone said. She slowly pulled her hand away and I saw a hole in his lower lip the size of a nickel. "Oh dear God," I thought to myself. "He better see a doctor..."

Mom got a determined look on her face and said forcefully that she would take him to the ER personally and demand a plastic surgeon. She's a registered nurse, so I knew it had to be serious if she was making that kind of demand.

So my mom carted my nephew away, while my sister, her husband, and daughter followed close behind. Our festivities fell completely flat and never regained their strength. The remaining guest ate Christmas Eve dinner with a much more subdued tone than before. Of course, I forgot about trying to save my sweet potatoes. Later we even tried to start a rousing game of spoons, but we quit after only one round.

Well, my nephew got 38 stitches in his lip. and hopefully he learned never to tease animals.

Hopefully he had a much better Christmas. For my part, I'll be glad to recover from our collective trauma.

1 comment:

Chelle said...

Everything tasted great btw, even the sweet potatoes!


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