As it's getting close to Christmas, there was really no talking going on between Ian and I on today's walk. He had one question to ask and I had one answer.
"Mom, Can I Have A...?" is his question.
"We'll Have To Ask Santa," is my answer. My plan is to have Santa turn out to be a total deadbeat and someone I can blame if not all the presents show up, or show up not exactly as requested. I'm not even keeping a list of requests, so I am for sure going to screw up his gifts.
What I sort of remember from today's walk goes something like this:
Can I Have A alecia doll? (what's this, and why is he asking for a doll?)
Can I Have A mario game? (No Way am I bringing video games into my house... not yet. Once the video game dike breaks with three boys - my husband included - all six of their eyes will be fully dilated for the next 15 years and we'll have to deal with joystick thumb on top of it. No way. At least No Way, this year.)
Can I Have A racecar with a controller thingy? (does he think we live in a McMansion? No Way, again.)
Can I Have A machine gun? (I don't even need to say No Way for this one, do I people?)
Can I Have A scooter with only one wheel in back, not two? (OK, Ian, have you seen how badly you ride on the scooter you have now that has two wheels? And you think you're ready to balance on one? No Way, my friend.)
Can I Have A party at Chuck E Cheese? (Not unless Santa's paying.)
So now you must be asking yourself: Is Mom a complete scrooge? (No Way. Blame Santa.)
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