HoodWiinked

I can keep a secret about as well as Google, so when my colleague told me, gently, so I would not scream, that her husband had brokered a Wii for my husband son at the retail store where he works, I spent the last five days before Christmas shoving food into my mouth to stop the word "Wii" from squeaking out.

This year, I alone would hold the title of Coolest Parent. Terry wouldn't even know what hit him.

On the celebration of the day of our Lord's birth, I brushed off the last flecks of glitter still clinging to my four-year-old "Mommy's little deer" sweatshirt that Gabe made me wear each year, adjusted the heap of mass on my head to rearrange the greasy spots, and slid the rectangular shape in front of my husband.

"The last one's for daddy," I singsonged, then honked, "Not!" and pushed it in front of Gabe. They both looked at me confused. "Open it!" I squealed, then clamped my mouth with my hands.

Gabe lifted one flap of one side of wrapping paper and calmly declared: "It's a Wii," as if a long awaited male heir to a throne had been confirmed.

Not the shredding of paper and tackle of affection and laughter I had envisioned.

Then Terry, eyes protuberant, mouth agape, "What!? How did you get that?!"

The dam burst: "Hannah's husband got one when they had a drawing at his work for the employees to buy a Wii 'cause they never get to stand in line to buy one 'cause they're always working when the store opens and they can't wait in line when they're working but the guy who won the Wii didn't want it and since Hannah already had one and they knew we couldn't find one her husband asked the guy for the ticket to buy the Wii and he bought it for us and you have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you but I wanted it to be a surprise are you surprised?"

I'm pretty sure my husband was picturing me naked. "You cook breakfast, I'm going to set up the Wii," he said hotly.

I blinked. Twice. Three times.

I am writing Nintendo immediately. Be dammed lead painted toys, this Wii contraption is dangerous for women. And addicting.

Me First

It's the time of year when everyone counts down everything. Best books of 2007, best gadgets of 2007, and of course there will be the ego fest we all know as the Oscars to rate the best movies of 2007. (Or more accurately, the smallest budgeted movies released in the fewest theaters in the United States on Christmas whose scripts called for long silences and beautiful women made to look ugly.) US News even released its first high school rankings to go along with the rest of the world's annual display of OCD.

I admit I read them, just to see if I'm totally out of the loop. I don't ever actually act on these lists (except for the high school ranking, that I'm taking pretty seriously). But really, what's the point of these things besides the fun picking who or what makes the cut and free advertising for the makers? Am I supposed to be swayed by 10 or 12 executives who probably live in Manhattan and have little more to do with raising children and cleaning toilets than I do buying $70,000 cars?

And don't even get me started on things as subjective as books and movies. Of all the drivel and brilliance created in our world, how can you whittle it down to 10 or 20 fixed spots? How do you compare engrossing Harry Potter with warm and fuzzy classic Goodnight Moon? It's like asking me to choose rank my left foot over my right. I need them both!!!

The best new book of 07 in our house? Take Care, Good Knight by Shelley Moore Thomas. It's just the right silly for 3-4 year olds, and even Gabe was drawn in by my and Asher's giggles to finish the story with us. It's about what happens with three friendly, little dragons agree to babysit a wizard's cats but can't read his instructions. Cats being stuffed in cupboards and forced to go swimming. Hilarious!!

But I guess we count on those lists, if for nothing else than to remind us that the year is done, I didn't use, read, or watch anything popular and that I really need to get the job ranking the best hotels in the world.

Disneywhirl

Holy cow! If this blog was my baby I'd be Britney Spears ya'll.

What have I been up to? Writing, working, traveling. That pretty much sums it up. I've been to Vegas, Seattle and Orlando (Disneyworld!!) the past three months and that's the most flying I've done in over two years. I loathe flying cross country because I was across the country from my husband and Gabe when 9/11 happened and I hate the thought of being five hours and at least two planes away from my family. But Orlando was a piece of cake.

We took the boys on a long overdue vacation to Disneyworld for six days, one that we had promised since daddy was deployed. It was totally worth the wait. Asher turned four and though Gabe had outgrown Fantasyland and all of the characters (except Donald Duck. He digs Donald) he relished in riding every roller coaster twice since Terry and I had to switch off watching Asher. We even worked out a system so we could hold two FastPasses at the same time by using Asher's ticket. (For those of you who have been so deprived as to never have experienced the magic of Disneyworld, FastPasses allow you to return to a popular ride at an assigned time and only wait for a few minutes, rather than standing in line for an hour debating whether Yoda or Vader is the most powerful Jedi in the universe.Oh, and you can only have one at time.)

Of all the fun, fantasy and food, watching Asher meet Tigger, Pooh and Eeyore right before the park closed and all the Christmas lights were lit, leaving him with extra personal time, was the most memorable. He clutched his hands to his chest like he was meeting Santa Claus himself, and could not stop giggling and grinning and jumping up and down in sheer delight. I only wish I had it on video, but here is a picture (Daddy and Gabe were off riding rides without us...)

...and of the rest of the trip, I will only subject you to these, a mere fraction of the 700+ snapshots I actually took.




Asher's Character dinner birthday with Winnie the Pooh and Friends







This is a shot of the water in "It's a small world," (during which Gabe continually shouted over the song in frustration, "What do they mean it's a small world??") See all that bling? That's coinage ... from the dummies who didn't account for all the thousands of dollars they had already poured into Disney's coffers. Ah well. They're true believers. I, on the other hand, was sure I spotted a silver dollar and thought for a good minute about scooping it up.


Ta-Ta For Now kiddies!