Christmas with Emily

There's nothing like having an 8 year old around to make the holiday a whole lot merrier - from the time she walked in the door in her new zebra print pajama pants until I heard her snoring in the back seat as I drove her home.

She helped me make pancakes for our annual Christmas breakfast. I needed three eggs cracked into a measuring cup and two out of three actually made it. Joey's trusty dog Rooney helped clean up the raw egg mess. Later in the day, as Joey was pulling hard yellow schmutz off Rooney's head, we wondered what he had gotten into. Then we realized his head must have rubbed against the yolk oozing down the cupboard door as he was gamely licking the floor.

I got Emily a lot of small gifts instead of one large one. Joey always passes out our gifts on Christmas. As he was handing Emily yet another one, he said (referring to me) "I remember when I was her favorite."

Eight of us played a simple card game called Kings. It's a fun, easy game and Emily has mastered the strategy and the art of it. She giggles with delight when she sticks another player with an unwelcome card, she graciously pitches in her quarter when she loses. She wanted so much to win, only to come in second.

Everyone else left mid afternoon, and that gave Emily and I a couple hours alone together. We played the new Pictionary game where you draw on the little plastic man - not all that much fun with two people. Then we made Rice Krispie Treats. Asking an eight year old to pour Rice Krispies into a measuring cup yields approximately the same result as asking her to crack eggs...and the Rooney-vac was gone. Suffice it to say I found a couple kernels of Rice Krispies in my bedroom the following morning.

Thanks to Emily's sophisticated palate, however, I did end up with a valuable recipe tip: Less cereal, more marshmallows.

Bat Shit Crazy X3

1. I just have to say it - every one of my relatives over 40 years old is bat shit crazy. We fall into two categories: those who are on medication and those who ought to be.

2. My boss sits in a cubicle right across the aisle from me. This morning I heard him gasp and say "that can't be happening!" I glanced over to see him peering intently at his computer screen. I asked him what was wrong. My mind was running the gamut from his elderly mother being ill to our ecomm site crashing. But no. He was looking at the Ralph Lauren Rugby site and he thought the sweatshirt that he wanted to buy his DOG was sold out. Think about that. Ralph Lauren for his dog. Bat. Shit. Crazy.

3. A friend of ours who lives in a very nice condo complex has a gay couple for neighbors. They all woke up this morning to DIE FAG MOVE OR DIE spray painted across the outside wall of their homes. What the hell is wrong with people? That's so far beyond bat shit crazy it's scary.