A Jen Too Many

Dear Santa,

My little sister wants me to write to you. I hope you don't mind; I know I'm asking for some very unusual items, but honestly, I find that the older I get, the harder it is to think of things I want to receive as presents.*

Here's my list:

1) A magic wand that will clean my house with one wave of my hand. Especially under the furniture, because stooping down to clean is getting problematic. It's not the stooping that's the problem - it's the getting up again later.

2) While we're at it, how about a little tiny amount - just the littlest, teeniest, bit - of water from the Fountain of Youth? Just a teaspoon or so. I don't want to be a teenager again. I'd just like to stand up from the floor without creaking too much.

3) Some of that water would go over well for my husband as well. If you give it to me, Santa, then I could give it to him, and it would be our little secret where it really came from, OK?**

4) Can you lay your hands on some spare wisdom? I don't know what happened. I was supposed to have a lot of it by this stage of my life, but it seems to have gotten lost in transit. I have way too many situations where I don't have a clue, especially with my children, so anything you can get me would be a big help.

5) Could that magic wand also make my children fall asleep 5 minutes after being put to bed? If that's not asking too much? And maybe keep them safe whenever they're out of my sight, too?

Thanks, Santa. I know you probably don't have any of this one hand, but hey, if my daughter can ask for Butterscotch, I can ask for something equally impossible, right? You won't mind. Right?

Jen
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*Usually because anything I might have put on a list I've already gone and bought for myself.

**I ask this because you wouldn't believe how difficult it is to buy for that man - you'd be giving me a really great present if you could help me get the perfect present for him.

I ran across this, here, and though it was a great idea.

Open the nearest book to page 56. Write out the fifth sentence on that page, and also the next two to five sentences. The closest book, not your favorite or the most intellectual.

Little sister, I'm tagging you!

All the children sat looking at Pippi, who lay flat on the floor, drawing to her heart's content.

"But, Pippi," said the teacher impatiently, "why in the world aren't you drawing on your paper?"

"I filled that long ago. There isn't room enough for my whole horse on that little snip of a paper," said Pippi. "Just now I'm working on his front legs, but when I get to his tail I guess I'll have to go out in the hall."

From Pippi Longstocking, by Astrid Lindgren. Left on the desk by the computer last Monday when I got home from reading to Oldest Girl Child's class. It's just as well, I suppose. It doesn't have quite the cool factor of Glory Road, but it's infinitely better than the Illustrated Young Reader's Dictionary, which also needs to be put away.

Ooh, ooh!! Guess what?! We returned the Scholastic books order form yesterday, and there were books for me in the order! Woohoo! Specifically the Chronicles of Narnia box set, which I have wanted for lo, these many years, and never been able to justify the expense. But this was pretty cheap - compared to what it normally is - so I splurged and treated myself.

Besides it helps out the teacher, so that's a good thing. Right? Of course it is! I'm doing a service to the community by buying more books - helping the school, helping the kids, helping the publishing industry. I'm not an out of control book fiend. I'm patriotic!

It hit me last night, that we (as in the parental units) have gotten sucked into a routine every night at dinner.

1) We all sit down to dinner
2) Youngest Girl Child looks at what dinner is and announces, "I don't like that!"
3) The Parental Units try several strategies: a) Ignoring her; b) Telling her she has to have one No Thank You bite; c) Bargaining that if she will have just one tiny nibble of dinner, just the minutest portion, barely an atom on the tip of her fork, then she can leave the dinner table and watch some TV before bed
4) Half an hour after dinner YGC says that she is hungry and heads to the kitchen for a snack.*

Wow. This is so incredibly not good. And it just snuck up on us, too. It's kind of funny. This is one of those situations that before I had children, I would have said I would never do. Though, honestly, I usually don't do things like this. At least I don't think I do. Of course, now I'm wondering what else I haven't noticed I'm doing.

It's amazing how much harder parenting gets once you have actual children around!
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*In my defense, I'd like to point out that the snacks she eats are usually pretty healthy: apples, carrots, celery, whole grain bread, string cheese.

We finished off the last of the pie the other night, except for Youngest Girl Child's last piece of pumpkin pie. She didn't want to eat it right then, but she was worried that someone else might see it, assume it was unclaimed, and eat it before she got back to it.*

Not sure what to do about this dire possibility, she and Oldest Girl Child put their heads together and came up with what seemed like a sure-fire solution. They put it on a plate and hid it.

Unfortunately, they hid it in the cupboard next to the sink, the one where I store my big mixing bowls and empty storage containers.

They told me about their brilliant idea late in the afternoon yesterday, when the pie had been in there about 24 hours. I quickly retrieved it only to find that (as I had feared) the lack of refrigeration had not done it any good. As YGC said, "Look, Mommy! It's fluffy!"

Yes, it was. Very fluffy indeed.
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*This is not an unwarranted fear. It has happened before.