Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas and a heart-felt wish for peace on Earth in the New Year.

Although remember that others get a vote on questions of war or peace.

If you celebrate something other than Christmas? Have a happy or merry one of those, too.

I know I've heard some on the left side of the aisle complain that with so many problems, our right spends too much time complaining about the war on Christmas. I confess that while it annoys me, and I side with the right on this sentiment, it isn't a top tier worry for me.

But I'd like to remind people who think that the right wastes time on this issue that if it wasn't for the fact that somebody on the left thinks that despite our problems it is worth waging war to purge the very mention of Christmas for fear of creating a Christianist theocracy (or whatever they fear), there wouldn't be something for the right to react against.

I mean, really, don't we have enough problems without wasting time on purging Christmas from the public sphere?

But I digress (as I can). I did bust open the egg nog a couple days ago for the first time since last season, so I may be a bit woozy in bliss. Lord, I don't know what "nog" is but it sure makes the egg taste heavenly.

Don't forget that tonight NORAD will track Santa. Your little ones will like it. Lamb hasn't reacted to this site much, but Mister admits that he was pretty much in awe despite not looking at it much when I showed it to him some years ago when he believed. Apparently just a glimpse of the big guy in action was almost too much to bear. So maybe Lamb just isn't saying much.

UPDATE: I think fathers should use any occasion for life lessons. Christmas is no exception. So after filling a mug with candy last night prior to wrapping it, I give the leftovers in the bag to Mister. I say, "Here, I don't need these."

And he was suspicious, wanting to know what that meant. I said the words speak for themselves. But "why" don't you need them, he asked? Leading to exchanges where I ate a single one to reassure him they were not poisoned.

I provided a caveat, "Unless I've been spending the last several years building up an immunity to whatever poison is in there."

Mister was faux outraged. Although I did ask him if he was seeing double, or anything.

So I finally explained it was excess from a present. Candy was eaten.

This is where I sprung the lesson. "So you believed the words of reassurance of someone you thought was willing to poison you? Really, son, if I'm willing to poison you, I'm willing to lie to you about poisoning you. Just saying."

Lamb imparted a lesson to me last night, reminding me to put a cloth down to make sure the reindeer don't make a mess with their carrot-eating during the Santa run.

That perhaps requires explanation.

We of course baked cookies for Santa. And I have milk. And carrots for the reindeer. But in addition to the thank you note on Santa note pad paper and cookie crumbs in the dish, I gnaw on carrots to leave bits scattered around the plate on the ground. That made quite the impression on Lamb the first time I did that (I've never topped my mom's and sister's ploy of dipping the cat's back paws in food coloring and "hopping" her across the kitchen floor on Easter when I was little).

Ah, this is probably Lamb's last year of belief in Santa. On the bright side, some stranger will no longer get credit for some of the cooler presents.

Merry Christmas.