Naughty? Or Nice?

Ah, Christmas Eve, our last evening of total and complete torture of our children.

Ozzy’s last mission was to hover, perched on his “zip line” right through the middle of our living room…

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Todd-Helton-The-Cat was eyes-on-the-ground.

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And the Ellie-Dawg was just kind of freaked out. And blurry.

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There was a homemade red velvet cake to bake, which the 6yo renamed Blood Cake. Blech.

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I think that Hank was blessing it OR doing the sign of cross OR making it a knight.

Mmm. Blood Cake batter.

Blechity blech.

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We had an awesomely delicious family dinner with our friends, complete with Mater teeth.

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And finally, finally, the 6yo’s video message from Santa via email finally arrived. Everyone waited on bated breath for the big news…

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Was he on the Naughty List?

Or the Nice List?

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Whew. Nice List.

I could hear his heart pounding from where I was sitting.

I love Christmastime.

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Christmas Eve turned into a little bit of mayhem.

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Ok. Maybe a lot of mayhem.

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But a Merry one, all the same.

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I hope that you were on the list that you wanted to be on.

And then I hope you got what was appropriate for the list you were on.

Wink wink.