Snappy Math

I debated telling this rather embarrassing (em-BARE-ASS-ing!) story, but then I figured...what the heck! It's Christmas. The other morning, I opened up my bathroom cabinet, and, it being crammed tighter that a N Judah at the Powell Stop at 5:30, a bunch of crap fell out, spilling onto the floor. It was as I bent over to pick it up that felt I felt two little hands: one on each cheek. "That's Mommy's bum!" I exclaimed.

Snappy was overjoyed. "Mommy's bum! Mommy's bum!" She squealed as she paddled my butt with the same fervor that I often do to her cute little tushie. Too be fair, I'm not often naked...even in front of myself, so this might have been the first time she realized Mommy even had a bum. I glanced over at her as I was returning to my naturally clothed state. The look on her face confirmed my suspicions...she working out a very complicated mathmatical equation in her head. Mommy + Bum =... She almost had it. Suddenly, eyes gleeful in her Eureeka moment, she blurted out, "Mommy poops!"

Merry Christmas. Don't say I never gave you anything.

Mini Phases

Everyone always says, "It's just a phase", but Snappy has many adorable phases that I hope never go away. Like her complete obsession with her 13 month old cousin, her 2 year old BFF and her fat cat. (I admit I took advantage of her stalkerish love for that silly cat this morning, yelling "Ralphie, come watch. Snappy is going to poopie in the big girl potty!" It nearly worked.)

I feel I must start chronicling these phases because it occurs to me that they aren't going to last forever. For example, the "animal" phase where she had to sleep with, be with and carry an armload of stuffed animals at all times, is petering out. I can't say that I'll really miss that phase all that much because it was hard to get her out of the house since she couldn't hold all her treasures and walk down the stairs at the same time. Still, it made me laugh and I got some cute pictures.

Sigh. Oh well. Thankfully, she still sleeps with them:




Not pictured, but all, somehow also crammed in the crib with her: Peacock, baseball teddy bear, Janice, Big Dora, Little Dora, Sonic, Ming Ming, Other Ming Ming, sheep who wears a jacket, hula Spongebob, Mister Crabs, Gary, Hello Kitty, The Pigeon Book and the trio of multi-culti baby dolls that sleep at the foot of the crib.

Christmas Miracles...Bah Humbug! (Warning: Shmaltz)

I've been thinking about Christmas Miracles lately. Glide ran out of food bags for the first time ever yesterday. Innocent children are getting sick...and staying sick. An old lady died in an apartment fire on Nob Hill the other morning. It seems that if you really, really need a miracle, tough shit, you won't get one. (Unless by "miracle" you mean "dead ticket", then you can get all you need...in 1990.)I don't dare hope for miracles anymore. I've developed a painful, paranoid faux-Buddhist need to live in the moment lest I spend every moment worrying about the possibility of not outliving Snappy. The upside is that I've developed a faux-Buddhist appreciation for "The Moment".

Okay, this is going to sound like something I made up for shmaltz sake, but I didn't. I swear. My favorite Christmas present ever was a hairdryer. I was 12 or 13, and I was just getting into stuff like that. I really wanted a hairdryer, but I didn't say anything. I'm not sure why, but we didn't ask for gifts, but just hoped for the best. When it came to clothes, my mom was sure to by the ugliest thing to ever hang on a sale rack, but with everything else she was spot on...buying lots of fun toys when we were little and make-up for my sister and I and rock magazines for my brother when we were teens. I didn't ask for a hair dryer, but all my friends had them, they made lots of noise and provided big, fluffy hair that was the style at the time. After I had opened my presents, I eyed the beautiful Con-air 3 speed and said, "we got a lot of stuff this year." I don't remember, maybe we did, maybe we didn't, but I got a hairdryer, so, in my mind, I made out. My mother said, "no, I only spent about 25 bucks on each of you." I was floored. I was sure hairdryer alone must be worth at least 50 bucks. I didn't believe her.

Now, of course, I realize that it was our poorest Christmas ever. My mom was single and waiting tables at a Chinese restaurant. She had no money, no husband, a mortgaged house with a failing furnace, 3 kids, a bunch of cats and dogs and then, one 9.99 hairdryer bought at CVS had hit a homerun and became the best Christmas present ever. If that isn't a Christmas miracle, I don't know what is.