Last week as we tucked the boys into bed, I asked Matty what he wanted for Christmas. He replied without hesitation.
“I’m going to ask Santa for a Optimus Prime and a fingerling.”
First of all you guys, what the fuck is a fingerling, right? I asked.
“A fingerling is, uh, like, a animal that sits on your finger? It can talk to you and makes noises. Some even light up!” HIs eyes widened wider than what seems like should be physically possible. So as soon as we left the boys’ room, I was on Amazon. And fingerlings are . . . something else. But you know that saying, “what my baby wants, my baby gets”? That’s basically me at Christmas. WHATEVER MY BABIES WANT, THEY GET. To a reasonable extent, don’t judge me.
I mean, do I know what they do or what makes them special? No. Do I feel like they’re worth the $60.00 it’s going to cost us? HAHA. No. Not even in my wildest imagination could I ever consider this finger dinosaur being worth more than $10.00. And that’s being generous. But here’s the thing, is ANY toy your kids could ask for for Christmas worth what they cost? And will our kids ever actually ask for things are worth their time or our money? I have VERY little faith.
Is there a perfect Christmas gift?!
I read an article last night; it was a list of hot Christmas “toys” parents should buy now before they sell out. Pre-fucking-pare yourself.
There were dinosaur fingerlings. Guys, Matty is so on trend. There were those fucking surprise eggs that I do not understand. Like, is it or is it not a giant egg full of arcade prizes? There were Hatchimals which are quite literally the cheapest looking toys you could buy for $50.00. I mean, there were variety of items that I will never buy. But, most mind-blowing, there were these fucking unicorns that poop unicorn slime (and kids are apparently very into it). Its name was Poopsie and it will run you $85 at WalMart. Guys. It’s a unicorn. That shits. slime. And costs eighty-five. fucking. dollars.
There are a lot of things wrong with the world but I would venture to suggest that Poopsie is high on that list.
Fingerlings, Hatchimals, Poopsie. No way these are perfect gifts.
I’ve been thinking putting a couple suitcases under the tree and taking the boys to Chicago for a few days. We’d go see REAL dinosaur fossils at the Field Museum, tromps around the Shedd and experience the amazingness that is the Museum of Industry and Science. But we all know that while Christmas in Chicago with a three- and four-year old might sound magical, there’s a very real possibility it would actually be misery. The carrying of the coats, the waiting for the trains in freezing cold temps, the pure insanity of toddlers on vacation in crowded places.
I’m sweating just thinking about it.
I mean, yesterday we went to a Christmas tree farm for the first time and Matty had to take a shit in the woods. And since Abbott does everything Matty does he just had to shit, too. So there we were, in the woods atop a bunch of snow-covered leaves, teaching our kids how to squat without shitting all over their boots. It was one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever experienced. Seth kept saying, “This is it. We’re leaving after this shit. I don’t care if we have a Christmas tree or not.” The third time he said it, I couldn’t help but ask if the pun was intended. And, while bent over supporting Matty so he didn’t fall backwards into his own poop, I laughed so hard I cried. Seth, however, did not.
But that’s all besides the point, I guess.
Is there a perfect Christmas gift? Yes. I’ve figured it out. And so I’m here to ask, 100% for myself:
Is it too much to ask the boys’ friends’ parents to let me wrap up their kids and put them under our tree? Like, just borrow them for a few hours on Christmas morning? I haven’t figured the logistics about how we’d fit them under there or keep them quiet long enough to keep it a surprise but those are minor things. Isn’t that what the holidays are about?!
I can’t imagine anything they’d love more. And if any of my friends are reading and don’t have anywhere to be on Christmas morning, I’m sure there’s a cozy spot for you under my tree.
I realize this doesn’t help anyone who was hoping it’d help you with your Christmas list but THE HOLIDAY SEASON IS UPON US, YOU GUYS, and….