One of my very best friends (a fellow military spouse) and I had a conversation recently about Christmas and how we want our kids to experience this magical time of year. My friend is a fellow Christian who home schools her 4 kids—all of whom are young enough to believe in Santa Claus.
Before I go any further, I have to let you know that this post is a Santa spoiler alert. So, if you have a habit of curling up by the fire and reading my posts aloud to your children, now would be a good time to forgo that routine. Instead, you might want to read them something a bit less scarring.
Back to my story…
Well, since we seem to have a “crime and punishment” theme going on this week, I thought I’d publish the photo below for your viewing pleasure and for my parents’ inevitable disappointment in my parenting skills.
I have 4 observations.
I bet if neurologists did even the most cursory study of my brain functionality—specifically my long- and short-term memory—they would find that I’m only slightly better off than Ozzy Osbourne.
Though, probably for different reasons.
I blame my dad’s genes for my awful memory. But I’m not so sure that Ozzy even remembers who or what he should blame for his.
Sadly, most of my childhood memories are lost to me now. They’re piled behind stupid movie quotes, annoying children’s songs and completely random facts that I never wanted to remember. Like the hierarchy of biological classification: kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species. Y’all, I didn’t even have to Google that. It pushed it’s way right up to the front of my memory. In that prime real-estate where my grocery list and social security number should be.
People frequently ask me questions about the business side of blogging and how we justify the time and money we pour into it.
And by people, I mean the IRS.
Just kidding, y’all. We’ve never been audited.
[Until she was dumb enough to put that in writing.]
Seriously, though, I’ve had several friends and family members ask me questions about how we justify the time we spend on a business whose quarterly report resembles that of a neighborhood lemonade stand…in February.
I think our 2-year-old has been watching horror movies without our knowledge.
(How? Isn’t he supervised?)
Well, you know how kids will pick up an iPad or iPhone and flip over to the Netflix app, and it’s about 45 minutes before you realize what they’re watching?
No…no. I don’t either.
You probably think this post is about you.
I dare you to try and NOT sing that song the rest of the day.
But, seriously, check out what showed up on my computer today.
It horrifies my mother that my family doesn’t have television. She can’t understand that kind of silence and how it could be healthy for a person. As if network television is the stuff that sanity is made of? My mom and I are different that way.