So, W has a cute little book called “All I Want For Christmas,” in which a variety of animals request clever gifts. The giraffe wants a very, very, very long necktie, the cheetah wants two new pairs of running shoes, the amoeba wants a one-celled cell phone…you get the idea. It’s one of those books that’s as much fun for grown-ups to read (the first time, at least) as it is for kids. Anyway, the book got me thinking about whatI want for Christmas. Santa, if you’re listening, this is my list:
- I want to poop (even just once! I’ll take once!) without having someone sitting on my lap, asking me about the mechanics of what I’m doing, trying to flush the toilet while I’m still going, trying to peek under my butt to see what’s going on down there, or making poop noises and grinning at me.
- I’d like my vocabulary back. Should it come to pass that I am talking to an adult, I’d like to excuse myself to “use the restroom” rather than announcing that I need to poop or pee. I’d prefer to refer to “kangaroos” as opposed to “hop-hops,” and “cats” as opposed to “meow-meows.” And I’m pretty sure my husband has a name other than “Baba.”
- Hey Santa, if you can swing it, could you arrange for Doof (the lovey) to be a normal, mass-produced toy as opposed to an irreplaceable oddball? As it is, I live in fear of losing the little dude…which we did (temporarily) during errands last week. When W realized he was gone, she was surprisingly calm. She had complete faith I’d find him. I, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck as we retraced our steps. We finally found him on a shelf at the bookstore, and Mommy could breathe again.
- Oh, one more thing. I know this is asking a lot, but I’d like to drink an entire cup of coffee while it’s hot. Just a thought.
What’s on your Christmas wish list?