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Wednesday, December 14, 2005

I'm finally feeling Christmassy. And birthday-y.

It's about time, too.

It's my birthday on the 20th, 6 days from now. Christmas 5 days later. Emily's 13th birthday on the 30th. And Stephen's 16th birthday on January 1.

I had a lot of fun this morning, picking up a few bits and pieces for the kids' stockings. Yes, Father Christmas lives on in this house. The tradition still brings far too much joy and magic into our lives to be abandoned just because people have long since figured out things like time zones and sleigh capacity and speed and reindeer abilities.

We have figured out what we're getting the kids - just have to do the actual buying. (It's not like we're cutting it fine or anything; there are days and days left before Christmas!)

But what to get Bobby is, as usual, a bit of a problem. He loves getting gifts, but, this year, he doesn't seem to know what it is that he wants to receive. I do know that he would like a new bicycle, as he believes he'd like to ride the seven or eight miles to work each day. But, since I am convinced that doing this would be the end of him (darkness, rain, steep hills and speeding cars do not, in my opinion, mix happily with bicycles), and because I don't want to be the one to hand the instrument of his death to him, I am reluctant to buy him one for Christmas.

I haven't been able to talk him into either of my suggestions for him: a vacuum cleaner (because, while I don't want to find one lurking under the tree with my name on it, we do need one, so it would've been terribly convenient if a new one had been his dream gift); or (second option) new clothes for me. Oddly, he didn't seem to find my argument that an attractive, well-dressed wife is surely the best gift any man could ask for at all compelling.

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