Sunday’s Column – Please Let This Christmas End

Dec 29, 2013 by

I think we will just wrap this past Christmas up in a box and hide it somewhere in the attic, never to be remembered.

The intent was all there, but the execution was, shall we say, different.

Where to begin?

Probably a couple of days before Christmas, as the Little Black Dress was at Youngest SON’s school delivering little gifts to the teachers, I get a call at work. Apparently the car won’t start. Being the dutiful husband, I head to the school to jumpstart the now dead vehicle.

Won’t start. Radio works, windows go up and down. Engine will not turn over. And I start to think this probably is going to be something other than a battery.

So we get the car towed, and the mechanic calls and says it was the starter. Do you have any idea how much a starter costs and to get it installed? Later I turn to The Dress and say “Merry Christmas.” She responds that she’s “always wanted a starter for Christmas.”

I believe it was the same day, after dropping me off at work, that the LBD returned home to find that one of her rescue mutts had somehow climbed up on the table and got into the brownies she had painstakingly cooked for the staff here.

An aside. Dear staff: The dog literally ate the brownies. Will try again next year.

Not content with merely eating the brownies, said mutt also decided to vomit said brownie intake all over the house.

It was somewhere around this time that The Dress and I both got hit with some rather painful issues. She got a fever blister that was, as one of the SONs called it, the size of a meteor. No kissing for Christmas even with bounties of mistletoe. It hurt to eat.

For my part, I got a pinched nerve in my back. It hurt to walk. Trying to sit down was like getting hit by a arrow, a very sharp arrow complete with pain poison. The SONS had to push and pull me to help get me out of a chair. And even in and out of the car. Lord help me if I coughed.

What else? Oh yes. Youngest SON of Thunder has had a silver tooth for quite some time. While The Dress was helping him floss that night, it popped out — hitting her in the eye.

We are ready for this blessed holiday to be over. The Dress will not show herself in public. I can’t move. We agree we are just going to do a little “re-gifting” for each other this year. Fortunately, we already had the SONS covered.

Christmas rolls around. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a big bow to wrap the SUV with — to remind her about her new starter. So I just reminded her. Repeatedly. Not to worry. In that whole re-gifting motif, she hands me a present. It’s a beautifully framed photo of us — at our wedding.

Middle SON of Thunder bursts out laughing. “That’s not a gift.” The LBD tells him to shut up. Not to be outdone, I grab the aforementioned vomiting dog and a bow and say, “Here. Merry Christmas.”

I can’t wait to see what New Year’s Day brings.

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