Day 4: Santa Claws at PetSmart

Noah can't keep his eyes open such is his excitement for Benny

It was hard to hide the disappointment the boys felt in discovering "Santa Claws"
was not the crustacean cousin they had been hoping to see.

For more info on taking your pooch or kitty or even fishie to the Santa Claws Photo Event (a fundraiser for local animal shelters and PetSmart), go to http://www.petsmart.com.

Day 3: Live Nativities & Small Boys, Do They Realy Mix?

On the third day of Christmas my three boys gave to me (cue the music in your head) ... a live nay-ee-tiv-vi-ah-tee.

I will now profess to just about understand why people enjoy producing live nativities with small children. My current conclusions on the matter are as follow:

• Kids dressed up as shepherds, angels, and wise men remind us of the true spirit of the Christmas season. Adults dressed up just remind us of community theater or Halloween.  
• Costume expenses are cheaper since the actors are 1/2 to 1/3 the size of the adult versions. 
• The drama of working with the actors during rehearsals can be managed with a healthy dose of suckers and, if necessary, time-outs.
• Kids are cute when they mess up their cues on stage. Adults just look awkward, then ashamed, then sometimes downright angry.
• Joseph and Mary were probably closer to my kids age when they starred in the actual live version.
• Can you really go wrong with farm animals (either real or fake) and small children? If only puppies had been mentioned in the gospels, then you really would have a tour de force.

All that being said, I'm still left wondering "Is it safe to place a long stick with a crook in the hands of my two-year-old and expect him to act like a shepherd?" The only people he really sees holding long stick-like objects are the Jedi and dragon slayers (he's got older brothers, it's my only excuse). At best, he might pretend the cane is a guitar (yes, he's seen School of Rock... my fault) or a really big gun (no, he's not seen Dirty Harry, I'm not that bad).

Luckily, no one was injured in the production of this live nativity with the boys.

The Second Day: Old World Market

Anyone who is familiar with myself or Marisa knows we're crazy about Europe. Crazy like pretend we were thirteen-year-olds and Europe was the Jonas brothers kinda crazy. So you can imagine my reaction when I learned the Gateway Mall was hosting the first annual European-esque Christmas Market thru December 4th. I didn't squeal... excitedly squeaked would be a more accurate description.

So following the boys' big live nativity practice (they're performing tomorrow night for the ward Christmas extravaganza), we headed off to the Old World Christmas Market. The atmosphere was quite fun and reminiscent of a European Christmas market, complete with fine chocolate, loads of jewelry, furs,  and at least one stand dedicated to Russian dolls. Following a rousing stroll of the stands (the boys only knocked a few non-fragile things off the tables), we feasted on shortbread, danishes, fresh cider and hot chocolate. Total cost of the evening: $17.50.

Here are a couple poor phone pics from the night's outing:

The First Day of Christmas: Talking Trees

So today I was visited by a sweet little tweet while sitting at my desk. It mentioned how fun it might be to create an "event advent calendar" as opposed to settling for the cheap chocolate and cardboard variety.

"Well," I thought, "We are having a baby somewhere in the middle of the month, but why not give it a go for as much of the season as possible." No sooner had I mentioned my goal freshly shot from the hip, then my dear coworker Cheryl pointed me in the direction of this fine event, located at the end of an unsuspecting cul-de-sac in Murray, Utah:

Needless to say, the kids had a blast and especially appreciated the bubble blower and talking trees. We liked that they got such a kick out of it and it didn't cost a dime more than the gas to drive there.

Marty's website will provide you with all the information you need, including address (click here for Google Map), hours, parking instructions, and tutorials in case you ever want to set up your own Christmas miracle.

NOTE: Not all posts will be this radical. Not all events will be this elaborate. However, at very least you might get some ideas of cool things to do around Salt Lake City this Christmas season.

To the kindergartner who introduced Angry Birds to my Noah

Dear Unknown Kindergartner,

When I was six years old, my father was the mortal manifestation of the supreme creator of the universe. In 1985, he was the only man that could consistently hit a bank-shot three pointer in really ugly knee high socks. He knew how get out of eating peas, let dishes soak for days, and properly use "Reaganomics" in a sentence. How could the man be anything less than a demi-God?! 

It was my father who brought home the bacon and anything else he wanted. If there was something radical or awesome out floating in the collective cosmos, Dad would lasso it, hog-tie it, and heave it onto the dinner table that evening. Sure, Mom might have known all about Olivia Newton John in rainbow leg warmers (Side-note for another post: I'm forever scarred from watching hours of her PBS televised concerts, while trapped in a walker as a toddler), but Dad... Dad introduced me to life's greatest mysteries like The Power of Love and where to go where everybody knows your name.

This was the man I patterned my life after; the man I thought I was becoming, until last night at 8:00 p.m. MST. There I was, sitting in the bathroom with Noah, when I remembered I had a moral obligation to introduce him to a cool "semi-new" app on my Droid: Angry Birds. I'd finally been able to download it (that's how we hog-tie these days), and was now ready to unleash its awesomeness to my first-born. The moment was supposed to be golden, even testosteroniffic, as I opened the app, and said "Noah... Look at THIS!"

Instead, he took one look at the screen and said "Hey, my friend has that game. It's where you launch birds and get to blow up piggies!"

You must be that friend. I ask you sir, why on earth do you have a smartphone in Kindergarten? Are you using apps to cheat on your color by numbers? Are you tweeting your afternoon recess activities with those small semi-opposable thumbs of yours?

Don't you understand? I was supposed to be somebody. I was supposed to be God's representative for all things dangerous, silly, and plain stupid at times. Instead, thanks to you, I've been downgraded to a second positive review for Angry Birds. If I were a lesser man than you've already made me, I'd ask you to meet me after school at the flagpole.

I'm smarter than that though. I know you'd just text all your tough friends and gang up on me.

Sincerely,
Noah's Papa

Exchange of Good

I'm happy to report that Noah has earned back his stuffed elephant. Here's a video documenting the release of Flower. NOTE: This video is not for the faint of stomach (i.e. I apologize for the very shaky camera):
 

Fiscal responsibility and a stuffed elephant

Noah learned about money this week. Here's what I attempted to help him learn*:

• Things cost money. Things like that cool pair of prescription glasses you intentionally busted when you got upset in Kindergarten on Wednesday.
• You have no money. You're five, after all. Sure, by your age I was selling off my M.U.S.C.L.E. Men action figures at ".25 cents apiece or 3 for $1.00," but I've largely sheltered you from such questionable business practices in hopes that you would shun the business world entirely, become a commercial pilot, and provide a lifetime of flight benefits to your mother and me**.
• You are responsible for a new pair of glasses. We've discussed this before (check off another classic parent line that has now escaped my lips). 
• Again, things cost money. Things like Flower, your giant stuffed elephant that you received from Mamie at Christmas (thank goodness Grandma Linda isn't following this blog right now or ever).
• When you don't have money, you can sell goods or services to make money. There's currently no market for tantrum throwers, tub splashers, or cat terrorists. This means you will sell Flower the stuffed elephant in order to pay for a new pair of glasses.  
• Banks buys stuffed animals.  

Okay, so the last one might not be pulled straight from your college Econ textbook. Nevertheless, I managed to schedule an appointment at our local Chase branch to sell Flower the stuffed elephant. Noah and I arrived ten minutes before closing, he handed over Flower, and they handed him $20.00 (from the savings account he doesn't know about). They then opened their safe and Noah got to watch Flower go into the Big House, banking style.

"I'll come back for you Flower!" was the last thing the elephant must have heard, quickly followed by the icy clang of the heavy metal gate.


*Learning would, of course, imply that the entire marketplace concept was internalized. I'll hope that the lesson was learned, but am positive at least one thing was internalized: the free cookie at the bank.

**Given the VERY strong prescription Noah is touting currently, I might want to reconsider the pilot career and redirect his life goals towards the medical profession in France (complete with vacation home in the South) or perhaps professional refereeing.