Leanna Kay

Now that the presents are unwrapped and Santa has officially returned to the North Pole to start preparations for next year, I thought I’d share a few highlights from the holidays.

First, there was Lauren’s all out badness campaign last weekend. Apparently a boy (Ryan somebody) in her first grade class told her there was no Santa. Their first grade minds then reached the obvious conclusion. If there’s no Santa watching for bad behavior, you can be just as bad as you want and it won’t affect your haul of presents. At least that’s what Lauren screamed at me from her room after she was sent there for calling me stupid and refusing to do her chores.

After a few hours in her room, Lauren decided that Santa Claus or not, her all out campaign to be bad wasn’t such a fine idea. She also concluded that Ryan somebody doesn’t know everything. On Christmas Eve, we logged onto the Norad Santa tracking site and saw "real" videos of Santa captured by the Norad satellites. www.noradsanta.org Lauren’s eyes got wide and she commented, "I bet Ryan doesn’t have internet. Otherwise he’d know Santa was real!"

The boys weren’t convinced about Santa this year. Being the wise third graders that they are, the idea of Santa seemed a bit too far-fetched. Drew even commented about how the concept of one man delivering presents to all the kids in the world defied the law of physics - his words, not mine. (Yeah, I realize I am raising the future president of the physics’ society geek club.) But even Drew was convinced by the Norad videos. At least temporarily. He’s still working on the per kid calculation to determine how many seconds Santa would actually have to spend at each house. When he crunches the numbers, he may come to a different conclusion.

Chris, being my practical child, noted that Santa was getting a little thick in the waist. So he went into the produce drawer in the fridge and replaced the cookies with carrots.

Santa brought a lot of nice gifts to the kids. Many of which they saw at WalMart yesterday.

"Hey, Mom." Chris commented as we passed the boys’ clothes. "That’s the exact set of pajamas I got from Santa."

"Yeah?"

"Yep," he said. "Santa must shop at WalMart too."

Indeed.

My kids recently bought Christmas presents for Bob and me at their school’s Santa shop. For those not in the know, the Santa shop is a week-long ‘store’ run by the PTO where kids can shop for one of a kind Christmas gifts for friends and family. By ‘one of a kind’, I mean the sort of gifts you can find in bulk at select retailers like the Dollar Store. So basically treasure if you’re an eight-year-old boy.

The kids were too excited for us to wait until Christmas to open these gifts. So we finally relented and decided to open one early. Drew handed me his package with a huge smile.

"Mom, I looked for this for a really long time."

I assured him I’d love it as I opened the package and was blinded by the biggest piece of fake bling I’ve ever seen. It was a silver ring with enough red stones to decorate a Christmas tree. The thing was bright enough that I could use the reflection to help land aircraft – from outer space.

"This is the most unique ring I’ve ever seen," I said as I thanked him. He went off all smiles. Every day since, he’s made sure to bring me my pretty red ring so I can wear it when I get dressed up to go somewhere.

"I’m glad you like your ring," he told me last night. "I looked for the biggest, brightest one in the store," he said, bursting with pride.

In the mind of an eight-year-old boy, the best treasure in the world is measured by size and brightness. And the true mark of quality is etched on the back with the distinctive "Made In China" seal.

My precious son thinks his mother is worth fourteen big ruby stones cemented in a half pound of fake silver. And that’s why I will treasure this cheap gargantuan ring forever.

Plus you just never know when you might be called upon to help land the space shuttle.

Being the responsible pet owner that I am, I recently took the dog to the vet so I could get her a check-up. Maria is a mutt we adopted from the pound so ironically, the yearly check-up costs more than the dog. (And Dad if you’re reading this, I am NOT going to shoot the dog and get a new one even though it would be more cost effective. But thanks for your frugal suggestion.)

The vet came in the room and immediately made nice with the dog by patting her head and rubbing her belly. Then out came the needle and the dog got a shot. She didn’t even care. The vet gave her a quick belly rub and all was forgiven and forgotten.

He asked me about Maria’s diet. I hesitated to tell him that she mostly eats deer poop, moles and the occasional mangy squirrel. We do buy her dog food, but apparently the poop just tastes better.

Then he asked about the heart worm pill. This is a meat flavored pill meant to entice the pickiest of pooches. Our dog won’t eat it. Maria will roll in maggot infested dog doo and lick it up like it’s a culinary treat. But she won’t eat the tasty meat flavored pill. Must taste like dog food.

We recently got our first snow. And here was the gender unique reaction in our household.

THE GIRL:

LAUREN: "Cool, Mom. Now I can wear my new pink gloves."

THE BOYS:

BOYS: "We’re going out!"

ME: "Put your coat and gloves on."

CHRIS (running outside): "That’s okay, Mom. I don’t get cold."

DREW (running outside): "Don’t you remember?  The dog ate my gloves last week when I took them off to dig that big trench in the yard?"

ME: "I remember the two-foot deep trench. The gloves escaped my mind."

As if it mattered, because by now I was talking to the back of our front door.

THE GIRL:

LAUREN: "My gloves don’t match my jacket. I need purple gloves, Mom. I don’t like these boots. They’re itchy. Is it cold out, Mom? Because I don’t like to be cold."

ME: "If it wasn’t cold, Lauren, there wouldn’t be snow."

LAUREN: "Then I probably need a hat. Does this off-white one match my gloves?"

ME: "Who cares? Don’t you want to go play with your brothers?"

LAUREN: "I don’t know, Mom. They’re throwing snow at each other. I don’t want to get snow on my coat."

That was almost like foreshadowing because what do you think happened the minute she walked out the front door? After all that preparation, THE GIRL was outside for less than thirty seconds before she got snow in her face and had to come in.

THE BOYS? I had to drag them in somewhere between rosy cheeks and full-blown frostbite. "We’re not cold." They both protested. At least that’s what I think they said. It was hard to tell with their chattering teeth.

I’ve survived the last year. I know you don’t think that’s much of a feat considering I spend my days sitting in front of a computer rather than wrestling constipated lions or skydiving with terrorists. But I have a secret. A secret that will shock and astound you about how dangerously I really do live.

Okay, here goes. Please try to contain your shock and horror. .........................................

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I, Leanna Kay, commonly throw away chain letters and delete chain emails. Even though dire consequences are predicted, I regularly ignore the warnings and refuse to forward these letters. By all accounts, I should have ten years of bad luck. I should be struck by meteorites. I should be kidnaped by Somalian terrorists. I should be hit by falling jet craft. And yet here I sit at my computer completely unscathed by the predicted horrible consequences.

And don’t get me started on how much Jesus must hate me because I don’t forward religious messages to my complete mailing list. I have been known to just hit delete even though I’ve been promised that something really great - of Biblical proportions - will happen if I just share their nicely worded email with everyone I know.

Did I also mention that we have a black cat and sometimes she crosses my path? Yep folks. I live on the edge.