"... and my broom and dustpan."
Not me, Mira. I know it may seem a little odd, but she loved her little housekeeping presents - especially once we got C batteries for the vacuum, which now makes an awesome "vrooom" sound.
The girl likes her floors spotless, as I mentioned in my previous post. When I do the floors, she literally fights me for the broom or vacuum cleaner. So the gifts were perfect. However, I am a little concerned that she'll retain some vague shreds of memory from her first Christmas with us. (I picture her as an adult, a puzzled look on her face as she tries to make sense of a mental image from long ago. "I remember the rest of my family gathered around the table playing a game and laughing, while I was doing something else... pushing something... Did they make me vacuum on Christmas when I was a baby?!")
Incidentally, she did get other, non-housecleaning presents. Like a corn popper.
Nothing like a vacuum.
Our Christmas, in all seriousness, was lovely. We very much enjoyed spending part of the holiday with my mom and stepdad, who are back shivering through the cold northern winters after a decade in Arizona. And if we pulled up to their house and stepped out of the van to the hissing sound of a tire going flat, ah well... Merry Christmas, van! Enjoy your new set of tires! Love, Randy & Jules
What was the single most memorable Jackson holiday moment in 2009? Was it Mira's eyes shining as she gazed reverently at the Advent candle at church, contemplating the birth of Jesus, while visions of sugar plums, mangers, off-limit ornaments and vacuum cleaners simultaneously mingled in her head? Not quite. I have to say that an incident from our celebration with my dad eclipsed any other holiday moment in terms of being etched in our brains forever.
There we were, gathered around the Christmas tree in our living room, good cheer and merriment (or at least sarcasm) in the air, presents piled under the tree. My sister and her husband brought their two dogs to the celebration, one of whom is a darling, affectionate, wiggly new puppy. Apparently very threatening to the alpha male coonhound residing in this house. At first, Fred's dander stood straight up like a doggie mohawk. Once he relaxed a little around the nine-pound newcomer, he decided to make sure no one forgot whose house this is. In front of all of us, without shame or hesitation, he lifted his leg and "marked" the presents under the tree. I think ten jaws dropped in unison. (Mira was oblivious and Ethan laughed so hard I thought we were going to have to clean up two puddles). Honestly, I still can't believe he did it.
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