Indeed, the jumbo T. Rex arrived Tuesday as indicated by that oh-so-heartbreaking tracking update. We acted positively shocked to see it in the house, and I pretended that it was half-wrapped because the paper must have fallen off when it fell out of the sleigh, rather than… well… that was just all of the paper I had left.
Alice opened the box, pulled the monstrous theropod out and exclaimed, “It’s a meat eater! Just like I wanted!”
**sigh** Christmas is saved. Alice has her technicolored, carnivorous, Jurassic dinosaur and all is right in the world.
(Alice bursts into the room looking quite self-satisfied)
“Mom, since I had two poops, the bigger poop looked like a manatee! That’s a good imagination. Sometimes I use my imagination.”
If you live in one of the five households regularly reading of The Book of Alice (the others being her grandparents and my girlfriend Rachel, who is the sitting VP of her fan club), then you know that Santa—aka UPS—missed Christmas. Alas it wasn’t Santa’s fault, but the misdoing of his elves—aka the store that promised it by Saturday and didn’t mail it until Thursday—that caused the heartache.
So I had to be creative. Along with her other gifts, Alice got an envelope with handwriting that looked vaguely like mine, but dramatically narrower. Hey, it was the best I could do. Here is what the letter said:
Little Miss Alice,
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Sweetheart, I cannot find one of your presents. It must have fallen out of my sleigh. Oh dear. And you have been such a very good girl this year, Alice.
Here’s what I’m going to do: I will finish delivering the gifts in my sleigh, then take a quick rest. The reindeer do get awfully tired, you know. After that, we will get back in the sleigh and fly all around—Constantinople, Italy, Missouri—to see where we dropped it. It might take a few days, but I promise your last present will be here soon.
Very Truly Yours,
And it worked. Whew!
In case you are wondering the bizarre list of places Santa mentioned is derived from locations Alice deems “very far away.” Illinois grandparents, it would have included South Carolina, but Alice and I talked about that the day before and I thought she might be suspicious.
The Kidling has been feeling pretty crummy, so we’ve been a little indulgent lately. Case in point, her midday bowl of ice cream on Christmas Eve. Hey, when a kid hasn’t eaten all day, you have to do something, right? As she finished up and brought her empty bowl over to me, she said,
“Mom, my chin is sticky. You can lick me… if you want? I’m nice, so you can lick me if you want. Especially right there (points to spot on chin).”
Baby girl, I love you and I love ice cream, but under no circumstances am I going to lick your chin.
At dinner this evening, Alice’s aunt asked whether she liked to eat salad, to which Alice replied:
My mom doesn’t let me have salad… or soup… or guns.
Dear UPS Airplane Gods,
Please (please please please) deliver The Kidling’s T. Rex that I don’t actually really want in my home by tomorrow. Please.
I was thinking this morning about getting started on thank you notes for the early gifts we have gotten. This summer I started having Alice dictate her thank you notes to me (She is a genius, but at 3.9 years old, she still can’t write. Slacker.) My theory is that it will help her learn to express her gratitude honestly. And, of course, that it will delight recipients. The first exercise yielded pretty terrific results. A dear friend gave Alice a set of darling barrettes, and this is the note she composed:
I love you. And thanks. (Is that nice, mom?) I really like them so much. I’m talking about that I get to keep them forever.
Warning: Gratuitous potty scene
It never ceases to amaze me the things The Kidling notices that I don’t give much (any) thought to. Case in point: the toilet.
“I usually poop first and then pee, but this time I peed first. My body did things in a different order!”
Indeed, Kidling. Indeed.