A Christmas Story

A couple of days ago Annie was out getting some last-minute shopping done, so I had the girls to myself. I decided to use this time to tell the real Christmas story to them.

I had the twins sit down on their couch in front of me, and Julia sat in my lap. I then launched into a dramatic rendering of the nativity story (using three-year-old vernacular). When I mentioned that Mary and Joseph couldn't find a room, Genna piped in, "I know! I'll find a room for dem!" Very sweet.

I then continued by describing the manger scene, complete with an ox, donkey, and some sheep. Kate got a scared look on her face, and asked, "Did the sheep bite baby Jesus?"
"No," I replied. "They were very nice sheep."
Genna then said something that warmed my heart and made all our Christmas efforts worthwhile. "Baby Jesus is so precious! I love baby Jesus. He is so cute!"

Very nice. They're still into the whole Santa/Rudolph thing, but at least they knew that yesterday was Christ's birthday.

Santa's Lap

Each Christmas brings new developments on the Santa front. It's always interesting to see how our girls are going to react to being placed in a stranger's lap. I normally don't approve of such behavior, but I make exceptions for Santa.

The twins were reluctant at first, but Kate decided to venture forth and give the old man her wish list, which was simply "Twelve Dancing Princesses." He had better deliver.

Genna went next. She overcame her reluctance by keeping an eye on me the whole time. She, too, asked for "Twelve Dancing Princesses." For those of you who don't know what that is, it is a DVD from the makers of Barbie. Also a very healthy activity I want them to engage in: straight from a stange man's lap to sit in front of the boob-tube to watch Barbie propaganda. Nice.

Last came poor Julia. She wasn't as brave as her sisters, though I feel she displayed more sense. Her Christmas wish list consisted of "get me outta here."

Annie tried to soothe her (and no, Annie isn't sitting in Santa's lap - that's just the camera angle...or so she tells me.) She tried to point out daddy (who was busy snapping photos of Julia's fright), but Julia would not be placated. I hope she continues to have this reaction to strange men as she enters her teenage years. I won't have to wield my shotgun as often.

Turducken

Ya, I know a Thanksgiving post is now a few weeks old, but I am compelled to share this photo of the turducken we ate at my aunt's house. This sucker was a cajun-seasoned, deboned turkey, stuffed with a deboned duck, stuffed with a deboned chicken. Layers of stuffing surrounded each meat. It was delicious, and if they weren't so expensive I would want one every year.

It was a bit Frankensteiny, but who cares. I just wonder how they bred a deboned turkey with a duck and a chicken inside it. Amazing. Thank you science.

Racial Relations

During the last half Sacrament Meeting on Sunday, I spent my time in the foyer rocking an exhausted Julia to sleep. Annie remained in the chapel with the twins and was enjoying everyone bearing their testimonies.

An African-american man approached the podium and began speaking. Kate, who was sitting in Annie's lap, chose that moment to open a new chapter in racial relations. She pointed at him, and said, "Mommy, that boy looks like chocolate pudding! He's brown. They match!" She was genuinely excited for the lucky man (boy in her mind) who had such a natural affinity for tasty chocolate pudding.

Annie tried her best to suppress Kate's commentary, and her own laughter. It was hilarious, but we hope no one else overheard.

I Get PAID to Blog

You wouldn't know it from my recent darth of blog material here, but I do get paid for blogging. Yesterday I got my first check ever from Google. $101.32, baby! That's right. Ugly Overload is turning in to a CASH COW!

Not really. I'm earning about $0.50 per hour while blogging. But it's still nice to see some of it paying off. My only fear is that all of you will turn away from me because I'm crazy rich now and you'll feel awkward being my friend. Don't worry, though. I intend to blow all of it on meth and a beach house in Malibu. I'll be back to being a pov in no time. You can visit me in rehab and bankruptcy court.