Sunday, January 01, 2006

It's 2006.

It's 2006. That's two-thousand-six.
I've often told Aaron I look forward to being old and crochety so I can start stories with "back in aught-five, we used to have paper money" and other ridiculous utterances.

But I'm not really writing to tell you something you can figure out by looking at the calendar. I'm writing to tell you of the great gift exchange of aught-five.
We returned today from Aaron's parents' place, or as I like to call it Chez Flecker, after having our belated Christmas. With scheduling what it was and Aaron's mom working retail it just worked out that Christmas gifting and New Years' fell on the same weekend. Twice the celebration; half the driving!
Adrian made out like a robber baron--we may not need to buy him anything but clothes for the next year and a half. Not that the tide of toys ever stops coming in. Our living room is officially overrun with toys. I have accepted the fact that this is what happens when you have babies.
Toy manufacturers of the world, I have two words for you: VOLUME CONTROL.
He's finally gotten over tearing into the wrapping paper, but he has to be coaxed into opening present after present. He would open one and be perfectly content to play with the contents for the rest of the day. But we were on a schedule--racing towards bathtime--and so we managed to open more gifts than the Queen. And I have to tell you, as grateful as we are for everything it also makes me a little sad to think of all the children who didn't get much of anything. (mental note: more Toys for Tots next year)

Aaron received socks, socks, and more socks. He narrowly escaped being gifted with sweater vests. Sweater vests: a nice gift, for someone else. Aaron is notoriously hard to shop for. He claims he needs nothing, which is partly true but not entirely. The real truth is that he likes to get it himself.

I received lots of lovely things, but the best thing of all was adult conversation and help with Adrian. It's always nice to have a little extra help, and even nicer when your baby gets to spend time with people who really love him.
(But honestly, what's not to love? Have you seen the pig face?)

Now we're just waiting until my brother shows up...and by waiting I mean cleaning.

Happy New Year everybody!

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

happy new year! you dont have to clean for me, i'm still used to how ridiculously dirty your room was when you lived with mom and dad, back in nine-eight. back when you couldn't see your floor there was so much stuff and when walking through your room you were just as likely to trip over something as you were to fall into a bottomless pit. good times.