Man, Christmas was a tough day!
Joshua got up, expecting toys, and sugarplums, and candy canes, and all he got was an old dented can of peaches (in heavy syrup!) with a big red bow on top.
I had to tell Joshua that Santa had finally given up on bringing presents to little boys and girls, and was probably checking himself into rehab, courtesy of that Dr.Drew character we keep seeing on TV.
Oy! That kid howled and howled until the sugar rush from that peach syrup finally wore off! I thought he’d never go to sleep!
And, it took FOREVER for that EXTRA STRENGTH TYLENOL to finally kick in.
Ever been pummeled in the head with a one pound can of peaches by a hysterical child? I didn’t think so!
So, while I got up today and prepared my icepack (for my concussion) and my black coffee, eager to shake visions of my howling two year old terrorist out of my head, I finished watching the security tape of Santa leaving a message stuck to my TV.
You know, for a spry old guy who can fly around the planet in one night, and squeeze down any chimney ever built… he was moving awful slow and he had a bandage on his face.
Now, I figured that he was just stumbling around in my living room because he was bringing bad news…
But I received this in my email (anonymously no less), this morning…
Somebody’s gonna get coal in their stocking for YEARS!
And finally, I can actually say that I didn’t have anything to do with it!
So, since I’m “Scott free” on this one…
(No relation to those “Clark, Roger or Scott” characters at http://www.wakefielddoctrine.com)
Because right after I hide this other can of peaches so that my kid doesn’t try to kill me with it… again…
Next time, we’re gonna start a three episode series on finding that “perfect place to call home”.
After all, those shipping containers you’re converting into an affordable home have to go SOMEWHERE, right?
See ya tomorrow!