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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.

My dental hygienist is a lesbian. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but just moments before I disovered her love of women she was telling me she couldn’t decide what her to buy her husband for Christmas.

After she finished cleaning my teeth, she stepped into the hallway and started talking to someone. “Oh my god she is cute, and looks great in pink! With those lashes she is simply beautiful.” At this point I was certain they weren’t talking about me, since I’m in black today– although I’ve been told by quite a few men I’ve dated that my eyelashes are pretty spectacular.

My dentist finished up and as I walked out saw the hygienist holding a baby bundled in pink. I’ll admit I was slightly relieved. The last thing anyone needs to get for Christmas is divorce papers.

First my beloved Disney Princess blanket from Marky, and now the Hello Kitty plush toy Little AK gave me for my birthday.  What’s next, my laptop?  

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I can’t decide to laugh about this, or eat a container of ice cream and cry. A cougar? Seriously, George? Our imaginary cuddle affair is over!

Rest assured little Georgie, if I get married due to your post you can skim 10% off the wedding gifts and money. But stay away from my bridesmaids!

Last night I had dinner with Arlo and the AK’s. AK made his famous mozza ball soup. Yup, I ate balls for dinner, and in typical sophomoric fashion I giggled through the entire meal.

I showed up in jeans but quickly shed them for a pair of comfy pink pj pants. I’m not in the habit of taking my pj’s everywhere, but the AK’s are family so it’s perfectly acceptable to opt for comfort over cute.

AK was quite concerned when I didn’t put my jeans back on to leave. “Sarah, it’s snowing out there. If you get in a wreck you will have to go to the hospital wearing that!”He was horrified at the thought. So I did something completely out of character: I drove slow.

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?!

Last night was cheap beer night at the Grizzlies Game. So we all went. I was late getting there since I have a Tuesday night Math class, but I arrived just in time to hear Ben arguing with the beer vendor.

Beer Vendor: “You can either get a 10 oz. beer for one dollar, or a 32 oz. beer for four dollars. But I recommend you get the larger beer. It’s a better deal.”

Ben: “Actually that’s not true. If I get the small beer I save 2.5 cents per ounce. Trust me, I did the math before I got here.”

BV: “But the 32 oz beer is larger therefore you have more beer.”

Ben: “Yes, but that’s not the point, the point is to save money on beer. That’s the whole idea behind cheap beer night. I can buy a large beer at four dollars or four small beers at four dollars. Same amount of money but 8 oz less, which makes zero sense.”

At that point the beer vendor stopped talking to him and poured the beers. I guess math really is used in every day life, and here I thought it was a waste of my time.