Where is Ozzy?
One of the very best parts of my day right now is planning out where Ozzy will be the next morning. And I’m cracking up at the hunt that takes place each day.
Even while he tries to rub the sleepies out of his eyes, he doesn’t realize just how close he is. He’s getting to know terms like, “You’re so cold.” and “You’re getting warmer.” and my favorite, “DUDE! YOU’RE ON FIRE!” Caps lock. Yeah, baby.
Finally, after a groggy trip across the dining room and into the kitchen, he noticed Ozzy.
Of course, he couldn’t wait to triumphantly lord this over his brother, but the small fry spotted the Rojo Elfo up near the ceiling on his way down the stairs that particular morning.
The next day, Ozzy was solemn and watchful, in plain sight atop the armoire. I think it took our 6yo even longer to notice him.
This is a revelation to me in how he truly cannot find his socks as he steps over them on his bedroom floor.
A little later that afternoon, I heard our 6yo talking to him, and then he handed me his Letter to Santa and asked if I would place it up there by Ozzy, because he had asked him to please hand deliver it to Santa during his trip back that night.
Ozzy sure did hand deliver that note. The next morning, he was totally empty-handed and sneakily hanging out in our tree plant thing.
And the morning after that? Oh is he ever ornery. He might teach our boys a thing or two (like they need lessons).
He had sequestered Woody up there above our kitchen cabinets and stolen his hat.
He looks quite proud of himself, no?
Wonder where he’ll be tamale.
I think he might sing a jingle or two with the help of the guitar. Maybe. *wink wink*
