'Cause we're ready for some Christmas.
Noah helped decorate the tree -- one of about a bajillion different firsts for him this year. We finally figured out that he's okay with having a tree in the house, he just doesn't want to see or even hear about it riding home on top of our car. Because...trees don't belong on cars? Because it might fall off? Because it's a flagrant violation of proper seat-belt usage laws? I DON'T KNOW WHY. I DON'T MAKE HIS RULES. All I know is that this year we skipped the whole picking-out-a-tree-as-a-family bit and didn't tell Noah anything about it until the tree was off the car roof and in our living room. This, he was fine with.
More than fine, actually. Excited, even, to get going with hanging up the orbbamints.
So our tree has a LOT of orbbamints on that one side, towards the bottom. I am more than fine with this too.
Ezra supervised the garland placement.
I waited until he was in bed to begin the untangling and cursing of said garland, and only barely managed to finish sometime before breakfast. The magic of Christmas!
I used to pretend our holiday garland was a Golden Lasso, too. Though if Ezra ever asks Santa for a Wonder Woman costume, he'll damn well GET a Wonder Woman costume.
No, I'm still not over it, Santa.
As for this year, though, early signs are looking very promising for the current plan of giving Ezra nothing but a bunch of Random Plastic Packaging Shit on Saturday. OMG IKEA ORBBAMINT BOX IS GREATEST THING EVER.
Except for maybe snowman cookies.
Well. They were at least kind of excited about it, I swear.
I think the enthusiasm was dampened by my overselling of the accompanying hot chocolate as being something so delicious it was going to blow their little minds out their ears, but they both took sips of the tepid, barely-lukewarm liquid and shrieked and wailed from the HORRIBLE SCALDING HEAT WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO TO US, MOTHER, WE COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED.
Another Big First: Noah licked the bowl after we made cookies.
Translation: Noah actively participated in the cookie-making process, complete with the BREAKING OF EGGS and the NOISE OF THE KITCHENAID, and then willingly TOUCHED THE STICKY, SLIMY BATTER with his OWN FINGERS and then ACTUALLY TASTED IT.
And declared it DELICIOUS.
So delicious, in fact, that I was forced (FORCED, I TELL YOU) to make a whole separate batch of cookies just so Ezra could get his first taste of cookie dough.
Now all that's left to do before Christmas is make one last batch of cookies after the kids go to bed so I can get some cookie dough. This spirit of "giving" and "sharing" garbage is for suckers.