All Over but the Shoutin'

My first mistake on Christmas Day: waking her up. I was excited for the kid to get up and start creating meaningful videotaped memories, so I rousted her out of bed. Plus, we had to get the gift opening done before my brother-in-law, sister-in-law, and niece arrived for lunch. Waking A up at 7 didn't seem to be such a bad idea until later in the day. By mid-afternoon, she had become delirious from the festivities, had two potty accidents ("Why didn't you use the potty?" "Because I'm sorry!" That's her response lately when she gets busted for something - she won't explain why she did it, but cuts right to the chase and just starts yelling, "Because I'm sorry!"), and started carrying out ideas that were just bad in general.

My second mistake: lunch. With two days to go before my weekly weigh-in at Weight Watchers, I found myself devouring stuffed shells, garlic mashed potatoes, and French bread. I just love a good piece of crunchy, chewy, buttery bread from time to time, and I don't care who knows it. My sister-in-law brought over some brownies that were not only frosted, but also contained caramel and cookie dough. I believe these are illegal in several states. I didn't want to be rude, of course, so I decided to partake of the chocolately goodness.

My third mistake: using a salt scrub that my mom sent me for my hands. You see, I had spent a good part of my day liberating plastic toys from their packages. As all parents know, toys are held in display boxes by pure titanium and super glue. Somewhere in the process of cutting twist ties and slashing through cardboard, I somehow managed to stab myself in the palm of my right hand. As it turns out, "salt in your wounds" is not just a saying. It hurts like I don't know what. My hands, though, are soft and smooth as can be.


Wearing her Christmas dress and her "tappa shoes," as she calls her black dress shoes (which are not tap shoes)

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