Did He Come?

     It's been awhile since my last blog. There is a reason for that and we can all thank facebook for it. Gotta love the viruses. My laptop is in the care of my brother-in-law. I'm hoping he'll be able to fix it. If not, I'd better get used to snagging the family PC late at night when it's available.
     This month has flown by, for me at least. For Ian? It couldn't possibly move slower. Especially tonight. The final night. The night his biggest dreams come true. He's been working so hard to be good all month. His perseverance impressed me and I've gotta hand it to him: He's done an amazing job. He received a letter in the mail today from Santa. Scott read him the letter. He began, "Ian, I'm sorry to say you are on the naughty list."
     You should have seen that kids' face fall. Instant despair. All that effort and it wasn't good enough. His head dropped to his chest and he heaved a big sigh. Scott realized his mistake and hugged Ian, saying, "I'm joking. That's not what it says." To Ian's relief, Scott read the letter the right way and Ian learned that he was, in fact, on the Nice List. In spite of the good news, today has been a difficult one for my boy.
     We went to my in-laws house for dinner and a party this evening. Instead of being able to participate in the festivities, Ian was emotional and worried that he was going to miss something important if he wasn't at home. He claimed, at six-thirty, that he was tired and ready for bed. Apparently that wasn't true because it is now almost midnight and he is still awake. Poor Santa is getting tired and needs all little ones to be asleep so he can fill stockings.
     I tried to put Ian to bed at nine-thirty. I listened to his sweet prayer. He said, "Heavenly Father, I hope you have a good birthday tomorrow." I was so proud in that moment. Even though he was consumed with Santa desire, he realized the true meaning of Christmas. After his prayer I sang him songs and rubbed his back to help him relax. But Christeal is spending the night and she shares a room with Ian when she is here. And she, was NOT ready to relax. She kept trying to climb into Ian's bed and steal his covers. She would dump toys out in the middle of the floor and start to play. She would screech and laugh and try to get him riled up. It worked. Any sleepiness he felt during lullaby time quickly disappeared. So I moved Ian downstairs with the girls and Zack.
     My kids have a Christmas Eve tradition. They like to gather in the game room and sleep there together. That way they wake up together the next morning. But Ian still couldn't settle down. So when Christeal finally fell asleep I brought Ian back upstairs. I'm hoping he'll fall into a nice deep slumber soon and sleep until nine or so tomorrow.
     I can dream, right?
     While Ian was downstairs tonight, I was in my room wrapping Santa gifts. I heard him come upstairs and then go back down. When I came out of my room, I saw that he had moved the fireplace screen so that Santa could come down the chimney with ease and not hurt himself. There was also a plate of cookies and milk on the table.
     I love his excitement. I remember being a kid and waiting on that long, endless night. I nearly died when my Uncle Laurie called and told us that Santa was stuck in his chimney and wouldn't be able to make it. Another year he announced that his boys had captured Santa and wouldn't let him go. Adults can be so cruel.
     Well, my boy is finally asleep and that means I need to go to bed too. Santa can only come after everyone is dreaming of sugarplums. And when Ian asks me in the morning, 'Did Santa come?' I want to be able to say, 'Yes.'
     Merry Christmas!
    

Damn, I'm Good!

     I need to get this entry just right, so I will be conversing with Scott as I type. He witnessed the event downstairs with Ian, after turning on the Transformers DVD, then he hurried upstairs to relay it to me. It's a keeper!
     To begin, what little boy isn't a fan of Transformers? My younger brother worshiped them when he was a kid and today, their appeal is still going strong. My great-nephew can name every single Autobot and Decepticon, in order of importance, and probably alphabetically if asked. He's six--I think. (Sorry Mer if I got his age wrong!)
     Ian is a huge fan of the car/robot metamorphosis as well. He loves to pretend that his toy blocks are transformers. He can build Autobots and Decepticons of all shapes and sizes. He lines them all up on the fireplace and then proceeds to have epic battles complete with spit-spattering sound effects. It's the one thing that will occupy his overactive imagination for more than ten minutes. He will play for hours, and often asks me to not clean them up when it's time for bed. He likes to continue the next day where he left off the night before.
     Just recently Ian acquired a real Optimus and Starscream from McDonald's. I've never seen a child so euphoric over a happy meal toy. Naturally, with his new toys, he wanted to watch the movie so that he could play along with it. Which leads us to the funny story.
    Scott put in the DVD and Ian began watching. It came to the part where Iron Hide did something cool and said, "Damn, I'm good!"
     Ian stood tall and straight just like the Autobot and repeated, "Damn, I'm good!"
     He paused, and with a puzzled look on his face, turned to Scott and said, "I think I just said a bad word. But it's only a sometimes bad word. 'Cause there's good dams. Like Beaver dams, Hoover Dam... Right, Dad?"
     "Right, buddy."
     I love stories people tell about kids and naughty words. I'll never forget when Tawni was eight and out of the blue asked me if f*** was a bad word. I tried very hard to keep a straight face and explain in a kind way that yes, it was the queen mother of dirty words. We haven't had to address that one with Ian yet, and until we do, I'm more than happy to stick with a few damns.