The Eye of the Beholder, Revisited

As we were flipping through Christmas cards, hubby and  I were checking out all of the lovely photos from our friends and family.  Of course, we were also critiquing people's eyes and determining whether or not a person was left eyed or right eyed.  And, if that sounds ridiculous to you . . . then just read the following re-post below and join my everyday insanity.

Enjoy!

The Eye of the Beholder . . .

I am a vain person.  I fully admit it and own up to it.  I care about the way that I look.  So when hubby informed me that I had one eye that was smaller than the other, I thought that he was joking.

Immediately, I put up my first defense, "C'mon honey.  Be serious!"

Cool as a cucumber, and without a hint of his usual sarcasm, he answered, "I am Annie.  Your left eye is smaller than your right."

I searched his expression for any tell tale give away to his obvious joke, but found nothing.

"You're sure this isn't like the "big head" incident?"  I asked, referencing the time that he had me going for almost a week that I had an abnormally large head for my body.  He had seen it on an old Seinfeld rerun.  Elaine's boyfriend had broken up with her because, in his words, she had a big head. Literally.  Hubby had used the same tactics on me once, and my vanity had me believing that my melon was  grossly disproportionate for my 5'2" body.

He patted my head lovingly and said, "Sweetie, it's no big deal."  

Those words did me in.

I won't say that I ran to the mirror, but I did that silly walk run combo you see old men in nylon shorts do at the beach.  And to my horror, I discovered that he was right!  I  pulled the curtain open in the bathroom in the hopes that allowing more light into the room would prove that the mirror was lying.  But alas, it was not.  My left eye was and is slightly smaller than my right.  I was in shock.  How could I have lived all these 35 years and never noticed that I was not proportional?  But more importantly, after almost 9 years together, why was this the first time he had said anything to me about it?  Why not just let me live in my ignorance?  Why alert me to my eye lopsidedness?

I practically slid down the banister rushing to get back to confront him.  "Why didn't you say something?!!!!!" 

"About what?"

"About my eye!"

We stared at each other for a few seconds, probably trying to determine how and what to say next.

Carefully, he started.  "Annie . . ." I always know that when he starts with my name, he is trying to soften me up.  As in, "Annie . . . I wrecked your jeep or Annie . . . what are your thoughts about a 2 day golf trip?"  Starting with my name, usually meant that I didn't want to hear his next words.

"Annie . . . I never said anything before, because it is not that big of a deal."

Easy enough for a non-vain person to say.  I continued my stare in the hopes that he would continue.  He did, but I wasn't prepared for his explanation.

"It really isn't that big of a deal, because  . . ." and here was the kicker, "every person has one eye bigger than the other."

What? What? What?  Was he seriously using that as his argument?

I retorted.  "And I suppose that you look at every person's eyes to determine which eye has the deficit?"

And he shot back, "As a matter of fact, I do.  I always can tell right away a person's smaller eye."

I didn't respond because I was too busy thinking . . .What?  My hubby is weird!  What else don't I know about him?  Is he secretly OCD like Monk on TV?  Does he check out people's other body parts?    I was beginning to forget why I was arguing with him in the first place.  I couldn't let this new tidbit go without some further investigation.

"So you mean to tell me that you analyze people's eyes for symmetry as soon as you meet them?"

"Yep."

"So if I named a person right now, you could tell me which eye is smaller?"

"Yep. Shoot"

So I went for it.

"Abbie"

"Left."

"Ethan?"

"Right."

"Your sister?"

"Oh that's easy. Left."

We went on this way for several more minutes.  I threw in friends, family members, celebrities, and even sports figures until I realized that this was not a function of my husband being critical of other people's  appearances.  This was a game for him.  It was just something to do to pass the time.  Once I realized that, I let go of my vain anger and decided to have fun with him.  It was weird, don't get me wrong.  But once I figured out it wasn't malicious, it WAS fun.  

And now, since I know this latest little idiosyncrasy about him, it is also enjoyable for me to analyze with him.  Case in point, last night at our Valentine's dinner, the waitress took our order and left the table.  All I did was raise my eyebrow at hubby, and he knew.

"Left."

And then we laughed like idiots. 

  

A Father's Ingenuity

When it comes to some things, mothers are just better than fathers.   

Mothers excel at things like finding lost shoes, knowing when a cup of hot cocoa will make things all better, and determining when a kiddie is somewhat less than truthful in his or her explanations.  For some reason, when I became a mother, I developed an all-knowing and all-seeing third eye that helps me find that lost shoe under the sofa.  It helps me see my kiddie's broken heart, even when my kiddie is doing his best to hide  it.  My third eye is also somewhat like a lie detector.  Just the smallest flinch or blink, lets me know that I have someone in my grasp whose pants by all rights should be on fire.

But when it comes to sheer resourcefulness, I think that my hubby has me beat.  

Just today, while I was out at the grocery store, Ethan injured himself. His sister's Wii game remote somehow collided with his face.   His face sported a nice bruise.  He was upset, and even though he did not need one, he wanted a band-aid, because, as you well know, band aids  make things all better!

Hubby quickly discovered that we had no band-aids.  But, being a dad, he had ingenuity on his side.

That is why when I came home from shopping, Ethan sported black electrical tape on his left cheek.

Problem solved!

I love that man!

Annie's 12 Days of Insanity at Christmas

My apologies to the original composer and songwriter of this traditional Christmas carol.

Annie's 12 Days of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas my true love, hubby, gave to me . . . an attic full of insulation.

On the second day of Christmas my true love, hubby, gave to me . . . two snowbirds from FL for a visit and an attic full of insulation.

On the third day of Christmas my true love, hubby, gave to me . . . three kiddies hyped up on Christmas cookie sugar, two snowbirds from FL, and an attic full of insulation.

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love, hubby, gave to me . . . four bags of dog poopie left in my outdoor planter by my parents made by Cappy the dog, three sugared kiddies, two snowbirds, and an attic full of insulation.

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love, hubby, gave to me. . . FIVE minutes to bathe by myself, four bags of Cappy poopie, three sugared kiddies, two snowbirds, and an attic full of insulation.

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love, hubby, gave to me. . . a six piece Chicken McNugget dinner from McDonald's because the kids were going through nugget withdrawal,  FIVE minutes to bathe, four bags of poopie, three sugared kiddies, two snowbirds, and an attic full of insulation!

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love, hubby, gave to me. . . seven loads of laundry from our visitors, six chicken nuggets, FIVE minutes to bathe, four bags of poopie, three sugared kiddies, two snowbirds, and an attic full of insulation!

On the eighth day of Christmas my true love, hubby, gave to me . . . eight bags of wrapping paper garbage, seven extra loads of laundry, six chicken nuggets, FIVE minutes to bathe, four bags of poopie, three sugared kiddies, two snowbirds, and an attic full of insulation!

On the ninth day of Christmas my true love, hubby, gave to me . . . nine little girls for a second grade Christmas cookie exchange and tree decorating party,  eight extra bags of garbage, seven extra loads of laundry, six chicken nuggets, FIVE minutes to bathe, four bags of poopie, three sugared kiddies, two snowbirds, and an attic full of insulation!

On the tenth day of Christmas my true love, hubby, gave to me . . . ten days of no school,  nine screaming, little girls, eight extra bags of garbage, seven extra loads of laundry, six chicken nuggets, FIVE minutes to bathe, four bags of poopie, three sugared kiddies, two snowbirds, and an attic full of insulation!

On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love, hubby, gave to me . . . eleven trips to the Home Depot for kitchen remodel supplies,  ten kiddie vacation days, nine screaming, little girls, eight extra bags of garbage, seven extra loads of laundry, six chicken nuggets, FIVE minutes to bathe, four bags of poopie, three sugared kiddies, two snowbirds, and an attic full of insulation!

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love, hubby, gave to me . . . twelve pounds of Christmas cookies, eleven Home Depot trips, ten kiddie vacation days, nine screaming, little girls, eight extra bags of garbage, seven extra loads of laundry, six chicken nuggets, FIVE minutes to bathe, four bags of poopie, three sugared kiddies, two snowbirds, and an attic full of insulation!

As George from Seinfeld so aptly put it, "Serenity NOW!"

May your holidays be as merry and insane as mine are.  After all, that's how memories are made!  

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

The ANTI-CHRISTMAS Letter

Dear Friends and Family,

This past year has been a blur!  Our clan has all been busy and the kiddies are, of course, growing like weeds.  It is hard to believe that we have an 8, 5, and 2 year old!

Ummmm, let's see . . .  the highlights . . . 

Ellerie, our lovely 2 year old, is such a joy.  She is a budding artist.  Her favorite mediums are food (spaghetti and pudding), new and unwrapped pantiliners, and of course, fresh poopie.  We are seriously thinking of investing in a pre-school of the arts for this lively one next year.  Until then we will keep our eye on her closely as she has a tendency to get into a bit of trouble. (Currently, she is sporting a purple foot cast after breaking her foot.)

Ethan continues to amaze us with his skill and knowledge of the world.  He demonstrated his literal translation of the English language when he was told by his t-ball coach to stand behind Ryan in left field, and Ethan followed his direction exactly and stood 6 inches behind Ryan.  That boy is genius!  He has also announced to many public venues his intent to use the restroom facilities and also, his mother's intent to use the facilities.  With his play by play commentary on the family's bowel movements, he could be the next big ESPN commentator.  Obviously, we are grooming this fine character trait.

Abbie seems to be the resident fashionista of the household.  She has informed me that my hair is "ugly and getting grayer everyday".  What a little Stacy London in the making!  She has informed Paul that what he wears is not fashion. " It's old man clothes," she remarked.  A fashion eye at 8 years old.  Michael Kors . . . watch out!

Paul has been busy with our kitchen remodel.  Throughout his labor, the kids have learned such valuable lessons.  Their vocabulary is so much more colorful with some of the new four letter words that they now know.  Paul deserves all of the credit for that!

I, of course, have been my crazy self , but this year I particularly focused on my health.  For instance, I have single-handedly done my part to eradicate malnourishment by consuming vast quantities of Krispy Kremes and Dove Chocolates.  It is the least that I could do.  I have also actively worked on lowering my cholesterol levels by having a glass of red wine as needed.  I have also worked diligently on my mental health.  Writing blog posts about my everyday life has brought me to the conclusion that my life is insane . . . but . . . so is everyone else's life.  This gives me a sense of peace and joy.

So, all in all, it has been a memorable and fun-filled year for our family!  

Merry Christmas!

Love,

Annie and family

********Disclaimer************ 

 To my IRL friends and family that do bless us every year with an actual, honest-to-goodness, Christmas letter,  I mean you no offense.  My anti-letter is just poking a bit of fun, because I have never been able to see myself writing one of those my kid is on the honor roll kind of letters.  I guess I am just a bit too warped, or my family is.  Whatever.  Forgive me!  And, Merry Christmas! - Annie

Post It Tuesday 12/15

I haven't done Post It Tuesday in awhile, but today . . . brief is good!  Yes, the theme today is short and sweet.  So, if you are feeling the holiday crunch, like me, do a post it note  blog post inspired by SupahMommy! 

 

Deck the Halls!

(My fireplace mantel . . . gorgeous, isn't it???)

I love Christmas.

Seriously, I love it.

I love the jolly music playing everywhere.  In fact, much to my hubby's chagrin, I have my car radio set to a station that plays tunes all day and all night.  My kiddies and I sing at the top of our lungs while motoring around town.  Their current favorite is Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer (Sorry Mom!)  Too funny and too fun!

 I also love the lights that twinkle on people's houses.  Now, I will admit, I am a bit of a snob when it comes to stringing lights.  I prefer white, and I like it when it is neat, well planned, and well executed.  I am not a fan of half-way done lights that are strewn over a bush or dangling from a roof line.   I logically can appreciate that someone was in the Christmas spirit to decorate, but I can not appreciate the end result.  ( I know.  I know.  Snob!  Just get past it!) Instead, hubby and I point out, laugh, and generally make fun of some pretty sketchy Christmas light displays. (Which is totally not in the Christmas spirit . . . but I am being honest here, and . . . it is so much fun.  Sorry!)  I mean a blow up of Santa on a Harley next to a nativity scene???  Really??  And don't get me started on the blow up manger scene.  There is just something wrong with Mary, Jesus, and Joseph in cartoon-like bubble form.  I have a feeling that they were not meant to be adored next to a life-size Spongebob wearing a Santa hat.  Just saying.

But, the thing that I love the most about Christmas time is decorating my home.  I have approximately 10 rubbermaid tubs full of Christmas decorations that I pull out each year.  (No.  I am not exaggerating.  And yes, I know that it is excessive.) .  Now, I do not use all of the decor in the tubs.  Instead, each year I evaluate my home and my decorating desires and then I create or add or edit until I get just the right look that I want. I love doing it so much that I have actually considered going into business decorating other people's homes for Christmas.  I just haven't figured out how to do that and continue to decorate mine.  ( That and I'd be afraid that I'd offend someone because I don't like Santa on a harley. ) Sigh.  

Anyway,  I thought that I would share a few pics of some of my favorite spots in my home.

Here are the french doors that lead into my dining room.  

And here is a close up of the goodies above the door.

Finally, here is my Christmas tree.  As you can see, it is not the shrub that hubby likes, so needless to say, I won the battle. (As if you thought I'd lose!  Ha!)  It is all in reds and golds and it is beautiful!  Sparkly, gold, and red!  What's not to love, huh?

And now I am off to more decorating!

If you are in the holiday mood, you can check out The Nester or The Thrifty Decor Chick for more holiday decorations!

Family Pics

Recently, we attempted the impossible.  We attempted to get a family picture.  Not an easy task I tell you.  Not an easy task!  What with squirmy kids (and noses to pick, I might add), it is quite the miracle that we even got any acceptable shots.

This would have been rocking if I would have just looked at the camera!  

Here's one of  the ultimate daddy's girl!

I just love how hubby's eyes are closed as if he is drinking in her delightful, Ellerie esscence.  I feel like that too sometimes when I get to snuggle with her rarely displayed quiet side.  I just love to close my eyes and smell her. ( I know.  I know.  I am probably just weird.)

This one is our Christmas card this season.  All eyes are looking in the same direction, no panties are visible, and all fingers are far from nostrils. Perfect! 

Here's one of my favorite of the day.  Hubby and I snuggling up.  I just love this guy!!

When I told my friend Kim, our photographer, how much I loved this photo,  she let me in on a little secret.  We are airbrushed!  No wonder we look so fresh and young!!  When she showed me the untouched originals, I had my normal, deep worry wrinkle right smack in the middle of my forehead, and my age spot was front and center on my left cheek.  Let's just say that I love digital photography!

And here are Ab and E.  Ab is posing for the camera and wears her forced "model" smile, and E is his normal goofy self.

All in all, a successful shoot I would say.

Special thanks to my friend Kim from Flickers of a Dream Photography for taking the time to deal with our craziness!  Love you girl!! 

Confession Wednesday 12/9

Bless me bloggy friends.  It is confession Wednesday.  A day that was inspired by some of you out there in bloggy world.  Well, that, and the fact that as a kid, confession at catholic school was always on a Wednesday so that you could go to the school mass on Thursday and be pure. ( You know, because there are so many mortal sins that a 2nd grader needs to confess.)  

Anyways . . .

Onto my purging . . .

I confess that even though I embarrass my daughter, I still pluck my eyebrows while I wait for her in the school pick up line. Yes, while the line of mini vans sit and wait for the kiddies, I happily pluck away!  I do this because a) I do not want to look like Bert from Sesame Street.  A unibrow is just not pretty.  and b) The only place that I can see those pesky stray hairs is in my rearview mirror.   I am sure that other moms have seen me do this, and I only hope that they consider using their rearview mirror for vanity too.  I just love to make the world a prettier place.  Don't you?!

Speaking of vanity, apparently I lack any vanity whatsoever in the mornings, because I confess that I have walked my son into his preschool classroom this week wearing my pajama bottoms and my winter coat.  No excuses.  We weren't running late.  I just didn't want to get out of my nice comfy jammies.  As a former Florida girl, winter time weather officially stinks, and I will take any little bit of comfort that I can get.  

I confess that one morning at preschool drop off, I also wore my slippers.  The really sad part about that is that I didn't even realize it until about an hour later at home.  I was stripping down to take a shower and realized my offense when I kicked them off in the bathroom.  

I confess that I did not feel the least bit guilty about the slippers.

I confess that I don't want to hear anymore about Tiger Woods.  He is a famous golfer.  He cheated on his wife.  While I think that he is lower than low for his digressions, I am sick to death to hear about it daily on the news.  Really?!?  Is this news?!?  

I confess that while I am Tiger-ed out, I laughed out loud at the SNL skit about him.  If you haven't seen it . . . it's worth a view. 

I confess that I love Christmas time and all of its little traditions.  Today we had homemade hot cocoa and warm brownies.  Ummm!  Chocolate and warmth and laughing kiddies is just the best!

I confess that I probably won't think this way at 8:30 tonight when Ethan is still awake from his sugar and caffeine overdose.

There.

Much better.

Absolution anyone??

Oh Christmas Shrub! Oh Christmas Shrub!

Merry Christmas SITS ladies and gents . . . here is a peek at some of my Christmas insanity.  (In fact, I think my last few posts are Christmas insanity related.)  And, if you are new around here and are wondering, what is SITS?  Well then . . . you are in the right place!  SITS  stand for the Secret is in The Sauce.  It is a community of bloggers that support each other through comments.  Check them out!

Dear Hubby,

It is that time of year again.  It is the time of singing carols, watching corny Christmas-y movies, and looking for the best  (and worst) Christmas light display.  These are fun times, undoubtedly.  But my favorite part of the holiday season has to be . . . our annual holiday tree fight.

You see dear, every year, as we trek out to the tree farm you bring up the inevitable.  "So, what kind of tree do you want to get this year?"

And, I know that that is really man-speak for, "How far do you want me to trek across the frozen ground to saw down a tree for you?"

Now, I always try to answer you politely with the truth.  "Honey, I'll know it when I see it."  And I do.  I always know it exactly when I see it.  The problem is that I am willing to trek over the river and through the woods to find the perfect Christmas tree.  I am kind of like Clark Griswold from Christmas Vacation in that way.  I will trudge through snow, with children, and with children's frozen body parts in order to find the right tree and have that Alleluia-like moment of reveal.

I am dramatic in that way.

This year is no different.  When we load up the kiddies to get our tree,  I envision the family bonding and the memory-making bliss that we are about to undertake.  I think that you envision . . .a long walk  . . . with 3 kids.  (Let's not forget that one of those kiddies has a cast on her foot, is unable to walk, and weighs 39 lbs.)  I envision a scene from It's a Wonderful Life.  You envision freezing temperatures, runny noses, and complaining kiddies.

Obviously, in this situation, I am the glass half full.

You, however, are the  beer glass half empty,  and you wish that you have already downed the first half.

Am I right??

To make matters worse, your idea of the perfect tree and my idea of the perfect tree are, shall we say, incompatible?

I prefer a tree with a conical shape.  You know, triangular?  Pretty.  Proportional. You are a math teacher.  I know that you get the idea.

You prefer a tree that looks remarkably like an overgrown bush. A rounded bush with long needles and soft limbs.  The kind of tree that can not and will not hold any ornament worth its weight.  If you really want a bush to decorate, we have several . . . in our front yard.  Just saying.

So dear, this year is no different.  I look forward to our little tree give and take.  I am ready to battle wits and words.  It is part of our holiday tradition after all.  And, I love it!

Just remember though,  I will win.  Make no mistake.  After all, if I am in charge of stringing lights and decorations, I will forever be in charge of picking out the tree.

Merry Christmas, hubs!

I love you and our battle!

Annie

Visiting Santa

Yesterday I took the kiddies to see Santa.  Here are some of the highlights of the adventure:

1.  Arrive to see the fat man, himself,  and realize that the line is about 20 people deep.  Actually feel excited that it is only 20 people deep and not 40.

2.  Watch as Ethan systematically knocks over the winding, holding ropes for the line.  (Did you know that when one topples they all topple in domino-like style?  Actually, it was pretty cool.)

3.  Answer approximately 547 people who ask, "Oooh!  What happened to her leg?" when they see Ellerie's neon purple cast.

4.  Receive approximately 547 knowing looks after the explanation, which, oddly, do not make me feel any better about it.

5.  Listen to Ellerie's screams of delight when she spied Santa Claus.

6.  Listen to all of the snickers from the people that heard Ellerie happily call out, "Santa Cock!  Santa Cock!"

7.  Snicker myself at her turn of phrase.  Remember that she will be red-faced and embarrassed when I tell this story to her future boyfriend.

8.  Watch as Ethan and Ab climb up on Santa's lap, and Ethan gives him a full minute long list of his must-haves for Christmas.  

9.  Acknowledge Santa's roll of the eyes and his knowing wink at me at the preposterous length of Ethan's list.  (By the way, Santa's response to Ethan was, "Buddy, I'll try my best.")

10.  Hold Ellerie captive between my legs as she thrashes on the floor in temper tantrum mode, screaming, "No!  Santa Cock!  Noooooooo!"

11.  Accept the polite giggles and chortles that waft their way to my ears.  Realize that karma is a bitch, and they will get theirs!

12.  Discover that Santa brought his real live reindeer. (How cool!!)  Watch as they laze around in the hay.

13.  Discover the nativity scene with real live barn yard animals. 

14. Hold my nose because of the lovely aroma emanating from those same barnyard animals.

15.  Listen to Ethan's exclamation of surprise when he spied the donkeys playing piggy back.  Realize that the donkeys were, shall we say, being a bit amorous, and not, in fact, playing piggy back.

16.   Pee my pants from laughing so hard.

17. Avoid  a full-blown birds and the bees conversation with the kiddies by agreeing with Ethan's piggy back assessment of the donkeys.

And how was your evening?!?!

Confession is Good for My Soul

Bless me my bloggy friends.  It has been 2 weeks since my last confession. I am here today to purge my craziness in the hopes that I get a little self-deserved absolution.

This past week   . . . 

1.  I confess that I broke the Thou Shall Not Steal commandment.  Apparently, I stole a white towel from our last hotel stay, although, I do not remember stealing a towel. (Perhaps  I am a kleptomaniac?!?  Is it still theft if I do not recall the stealing?!?)  The discovery was made when I toweled off after a shower and noticed the word POOL written by a black sharpie on the bottom of my towel.

2.  I confess that I do not feel the least bit guilty that I apparently stole the pool towel.  With the prices that hotels charge lately, they are lucky that I didn't make off with the comforters, pillows, and drapery. ( $5 for a bottled water from the fridge?!  Really?!  They have to put that in writing  on a price list, because if they were to verbally quote the price to the customer, there is no way that they could do it with a straight face.)

3.  I confess that after this week's ER drama with Ellerie, I didn't have the heart to inflict more pain on the poor girl, so I did not attempt to comb the rat's nest that is her everyday hair for the past two days.  Consequently, Ellerie is toddling around on a purple leg cast and sporting a do that is reminiscent of Bill Murray's comb over in the movie King Pin. 

 It is not pretty, but she is blissfully ignorant of its hideousness.

4.  I confess that I am secretly happy that Ellerie broke her foot, because it gives me a valid excuse to skip the gym.  (She can't be in the gym nursery and be immobile.) Instead, I am having fun decorating my house for Christmas.  

5. Which leads me to my  next confession. I ate 47 red and green M&M's this evening before I ate dinner. (Yes.  I counted.) No reason really.  They were just there, so I just ate them.  (And, yes.  They were soooooo yummy!  Thanks for asking.)

6.  Which reminds me that I must confess that I did a Krispy Kreme drive-thru run through today.  After a traveling holiday, an ER visit, Black Friday, an 8 year old with a feverish virus, and a 2 year old with a leg cast,  I think that I deserved it. (Can anyone say stress eater?)  I held myself to only two of those sweet, delicious puffs of fat and flour to get my fix.  I call that a good day.

7.  I confess that I have found at least 5 gray hairs on the left side of my head in the past week.  I do not believe in gray hair.  I will probably only go gray someday if I am kicking and screaming.  So I did one of the only things that I could do.  I plucked those puppies right out.  I confess that I did consider doing my other quick fix, coloring them with a sharpie marker, but I only had black and neon pink, neither of which would have looked attractive on my mop.  If I had had a red or perhaps even an orange sharpie, I probably would have attempted it.

There.

Much better.

Anything you want to confess?  I am thinking of making this a weekly link up.

*****pic by virgin media*******

Merry X(rated)mas

He is known all over the world to both kids and adults, and  he goes by many names.  He answers to St. Nick or Kris Kringle.  He is the Head Elf, the Man in Charge, the keeper of the North Pole, Mr. Santa Claus himself.  Use any one of those names, and you will bring a smile to pretty much any face.

But if you live in my household,  the jolly fat man is not known as Santa.  In my house, Ellerie has christened the toy bringer, Santa Cock.

That's right.

Good old, Santa Cock!  He sees you when your sleeping,  he knows when your awake, and he may very well just bring you some X-rated toys to play with . . . that is, if you've been very good this year ( or maybe it's if you've been very bad?!?  Very, Very bad?!?!  Hmmmm!)

I haven't brought the kiddies to visit Santa at the local mall yet, but this year  . . . it could be interesting!