Thanks!
“Aunt Sarah, Baby Jesus is incredible.”
“What makes his so incredible?”
“Because he lives in outerspace and flies here to grow up.”
“Hannah I’m not good on this whole religion thing, but that sounds a lot more like Superman to me.”
“Who?”
My niece, Hannah, called me this morning to tell me that Santa brought her a brand new princess bed. She wasn’t kidding. I drove down this afternoon to see for myself and found her cuddled up with her dolls wearing a velvet princess costume. I asked her if there was room for me and she looked up with the sweetest face and said, “Yes and always, but NOT EVER BEN!” Which is totally fine since when I walked out I noticed Ben in Carter’s room begging him to trade beds. Not all surprising since Carter scored a race care bed. Ben is sorta weird and into all that Nascar crap.
Merry Christmas everyone! May you all be as happy as this little girl:
Remember this? Hannah certainly does. My brother mentioned that Hannah has started going up to larger women at the mall and telling them she loves their fat butts. Needless to say, he wasn’t too thrilled. I, on the hand, got a good laugh out of it, but then I’m not there dealing with a very angry woman.
Last week when sitting the kids I was running a bath for them and noticed only the boy twin was ready to hop in. I walked into the other room and found Hannah, naked, looking at herself in the full-length mirror. “Hannah, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be getting in the tub with Carter.” “Aunt Sarah, I’m waiting for my butt to grow.”
I laughed and tried to explain to her she had her entire adult life to worry about the size of her butt, and now wasn’t that time. As we walked back into the bathroom together she looked at me and said, “Sarah, I love your big butt the best.”
And because I love her, I didn’t drown her in the tub.
I’ve decided the best thing about the holiday season isn’t the presents, the holiday lights or any of that tender baby Jesus crap; the best thing is manipulation. Something I’m quite fond of, but throw in the Santa factor and it’s better then ever!
While watching my niece and nephew this week I was able to witness the miracle of Santa. Kids will do anything if you involve Santa.
“What’s that? You don’t want to go to Starbucks? Santa just called and said Auntie Sarah HAS to go to Starbucks right this second.” The speed in which the kids ran for their coats was spectacular.
“No, you’re not wearing cowboy boots to school. Why? Because Santa hates cowboy boots.”
“You want chicken nuggets and not the PB& J sandwich I just made? Santa just sent me a text message and said you have to eat the sandwich, or else.”
After two days of this the kids finally asked how I know Santa. Clearly the only thing to was lie. I told them Uncle Ben had gone to the North Pole on his mission. Carter piped up and asked if Ben, or Uncle Mean as he calls him, had baptized Santa. I told them Uncle Ben had indeed baptized Santa. They were in awe.
Later when my brother Matt got home Hannah told him that Uncle Ben had tried to kill Santa, which I guess is pretty accurate. Baptism is a lot like downing, only you just get cake after and not a trip in the ambulance.
Poor kiddo, first the Easter Bunny, now Santa? I’m really hoping the Tooth Fairy lives.
This morning I awoke to cold feet touching me, specifically my niece Hannah’s little, cold feet. (I know, I was hoping for a hot man, too!)
When I asked why she was in bed with me, her answer guaranteed my undying affection for life. “Aunt Sarah I need to be close to you because of all the love in my heart, or it could explode.”
Why can’t I find a man to say such sweet things to me?!
Yesterday afternoon I picked the kids up at school and was headed home when my random iPod mix started playing Richard Cheese singing “Baby Got Back.” Naively, I didn’t bother changing it because the kids were talking and I didn’t think they’d even notice. They did, and LOVED it! And really, why wouldn’t they, the song says butt repeatedly–which is apparently a bad word. They insisted on listening to it over and over–always on a quest to be the “fun auntie” I let them.
Once we were inside Target I realized what a bad idea it had been. I was looking at jackets and they were singing lyrics about asses, which wasn’t exactly a big hit with those Utah County mothers. For a moment I thought about pretending they weren’t with me, but once Hannah started shaking her butt and singing I didn’t have the heart to. Instead I scooped her up, gave her a kiss and told her she was the best dancer I’d ever seen. And it was the truth.
This morning I was two hours late for work. I didn’t factor in three and a half year old time. Seriously, these kids have major attitude. Don’t get me wrong, I love that about them, but when you’re trying to hurry and they aren’t… well you know.
I spent at least ten minutes arguing with Hannah why she can’t have chips for breakfast. She, of course, insisted her mom lets her eat them for breakfast every single day, which, she obviously doesn’t. I tried giving her the whole nutritional value speech, but she wasn’t having any of that.
So what did I do? I gave up. I took a Dorito, broke it into pieces and tossed it on top of her oatmeal. And guess what? She ate it. In a way we both won, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.
My brother and sister-in-law are out of town so I’m staying with the twins this week. I’m fully aware of just what an awesome sister I am. Are they?
While the kids were finding their blankets, dolls, and special pillows they apparently can’t sleep without, I changed into my pj’s. When I walked out Carter looked up at me in disdain and asked, “What are those?” I replied, “These are my pajamas, Buddy.” He looked confused for a moment and blurted out, “But, that’s boy underwear… and yellow with crocodiles, not pink.”
He was less than pleased at the idea of his auntie wearing something other than pink. You can’t really explain to a child that there’s nothing more comfortable to sleep in than a pair of boxers stolen from an ex-boyfriend. Hannah, on the other hand, took one look at me and said, “I like your underwear and I’m not scared of them.”
It’s nice to have underwear approval from a three-year-old. Now if I could find an adult male who felt the same way.
Ben: “Did you hear I’m watching the twins’ tonight?”
Sarah: “Yeah, Holli told me. Otherwise I’d think you were making some sexual reference.”
Ben: “Can you believe they asked me? That’s trust, Sarah.”
Sarah: “No, Ben, that’s desperation. They asked me but I had a date and couldn’t. Her parents are going with them tonight so they couldn’t. Mom and Dad are too far to drive up, so they couldn’t. And Chad is in Japan with God so he couldn’t, and I don’t think her sister baby-sits.”
Ben: “So I’m sixth place. That’s awesome!! I’m excited, but Holli said if I had time to give them a bath. I have no idea how to wash kids, I can barely wash myself.”
Sarah: “Ben, they’re almost four–they are capable of washing themselves. Just throw them in the bath and stay in the same room.”
Ben: “I told Holli for the safety of all those involved, her kids will remain dirty. It’s just the smart thing to do.”
Sarah: “You could practice on Daisy.”
Ben: “I’m not washing your damn dog. Get Shogo to do it.”
I picked up the twins from school today since their parents are out of town on business. I got them all buckled in and off we went for an adventure. It’s funny, kids will find the most boring errands exciting if you tell them it’s an adventure. It also works with Ben.
New Order’s “Blue Monday” was playing on my stereo and Hannah starting shrieking with excitement. “It’s dinosaur music aunt Sarah. I love it sooooo much!” I asked her if the song was on one of her movies, maybe one with a dinosaur. Nope. I know 80’s music seems sorta old, but really dinosaur music? I think my three-year-old niece called me ancient. Great.