Twenty minutes later, while I'm stringing tinsel and placing the angel on top of the tree, my kids begin to take the large ball ornaments off the tree and begin a competitive bowling match, using the large Santa figurine as the pin.
Naturally with their sugar rush, the ornaments were thrown with fierce abandon, knocking over Santa and thus breaking his arm off. And this of course is a tragedy and my kids are frantically waving the red sleeved arm in my face, begging for me to fix it.
Now I'm more of an artsy type rather than craftsy person so I have things like paint brushes, not glue guns, so I attempt to reattach Santa's arm with a purple glue stick. Which of course did not work. So I put down the glue stick and go upstairs to see if I can find safety pins to pin the arm back on. When I return, Izzie is using the glue stick like chapstick, smearing the glue all over her lips. For a slit second I contemplate letting the lips seal shut. Maybe I'd get to sleep through the night, I think with a smile. Then I go and get a washcloth and clean her up.
The safety pins don't work so I decide it's just time to buy a new Santa.
I begin to return the bowling ornaments to the tree and to distract the kids I put Santa hats on their heads. "HO HO HO!" I say. "Me a HO," Izzie replies. Okay, whatever. I let her sing her preschool version of "me a HO" rap song while I finish putting the ornaments on the tree.
A few minutes later, I'm stacking up the empty boxes to return to the storage closet when Sam comes over and hands me a headless baby from the nativity scene. "Izzie broke Jesus."