It's Beginning to Sound a Lot Like Christmas....

The Big Ballerina has a very short Christmas list. The main item on her list is an electric scooter. Being a mom. And a woman. Or in other words. A normal-thinking human. It is obvious to me that Santa will leave an electric scooter under the tree this year.

Enter BSD. The dad. A man. Or in other words. A backwards-thinking human.

The setting: Lunch at our favorite sushi restaurant today.

"BB wants an electric scooter for Christmas. It's the only real gift on her list," I report.

"Santa can't just give BB a scooter. He has to bring one for LB also. You know LB will use it without asking if she doesn't have one too," BSD reasons.

"This is true. But, if LB gets her own, she's likely to take off to North Carolina on it. Giving her something with that much potential for freedom is hazardous to her health and mine," I counter back.

"No, LB will have to have one too. Maybe Santa shouldn't get them scooters. Besides I'm going to get them something else anyway."

As soon as the words escape his lips, he knows he's hosed.

"What? What are you talking about?! What?!? What are you planning to get them?!?!" I begin tearing into him like a dog with a new bone.

"Nothing. Forget I said anything. It's not a big deal," he sighs, trying to back himself out of his corner.

"No. What are you getting them? What is it?! It's not another sewing machine is it?!?" I gnaw a little more.

Laughing, BSD replies, "No. It's not a sewing machine."

"What? What is it?! It better not be a dog. Or some other crazy idea that I'm going to have to take care of!" grr. grrr. grrrr.

More laughter, "It's not a dog. It's not a snake. It's nothing motorized," he assures me.

And then he pauses.

"It's a boat! You're getting them a boat?!?" The man forgot that I'm a witch. I know things.

Staring at me in disbelief, he confesses. "OK..it's a kayak. But it's not a big one. It's not expensive. WHY did I even open my mouth?"

Deja-vu to last Christmas again. The same words he spoke about the sorry sewing machine he bought last year.

"Actually, I'm getting two. One for BB and one for LB. We need two," he continues. There's that same logic again.

I shake my head. How can he think this is a good idea?

"But they didn't ASK for kayaks. And they can't use them until the summer. At least they can use the scooter right away. Not to mention that BB ASKED for a scooter! Get them the kayaks for their birthdays in March when they can start using them!" I continue chewing on his ass my bone.

"Let's just tell Santa to bring them both the scooters and the kayaks," he declares.

"What??!! That's too much! They don't need all that. Save the kayaks for their birthdays. It's perfect for their birthdays."

"No. Santa is bringing them kayaks. Christmas is for kids. It's supposed to be magical. And full of presents," he begins to preach.

I sit quietly as he pays the lunch tab, and continues to wax poetic about the wonders of the season.

OK, Father Christmas. Get your kayaks. But Santa will not be bringing any scooters. We'll see how excited the ballerinas are on Christmas morning. When you explain that they can't take them down to the beach until May!


P.S. - Thank you for the sweet comments regarding my mom. She is still in the hospital. It's bad. It's not going to get better. But she's hanging in there as best as she can.