New Year's Eve 2017

-->

As is tradition, we all braved the cold on New Year’s Eve to travel the 42 steps next door to attend the Murphy/Green festivities. Chris Green has this way of starting the evening off right. And that way is whisky.

As is tradition, I sat on their big wooden bench to rekindle my yearly romance with Jim, a dad of Eli’s pal Harper. We really only talk once a year, over whisky. And it works for us. We get to tell the same stories as last year and occasionally marvel at the Cha-Cha line of screaming kids moving past. It’s our version of “Same Time Next Year” starring Alan Alda and Ellen Burstyn.

As is tradition, the kids ignored any and all suggestions of a kid count down and demanded to stay up until midnight. We Dads of whisky all said it was ok.

As is tradition, everyone was asleep by 12:04am.

As is tradition, I write a little note to everyone I love.

Dear Elijah,

You are still the most caring, lovely, kind boy on the face of the planet, despite your eighteen Nerf guns and 4,000 Nerf bullets. I’m beginning to think your warmth and generosity may be permanent. I desperately want another year of laying down with you at bedtime. I can’t wait to see what you do in 2018 and to hear your happy stories. I love you.

Dear Luca,

You are suddenly a sportsman. You are so funny and rambunctious and your enthusiasm makes me want to be a sportsman too. It’s insane to think you could become even more hilarious than you were last year, but here we are. I hope Lucaland never goes away and I hope you keep waking up early just to hug me before anyone else. I love you.

Dear Diana,

I can’t believe how strong you are. How you can be funny and kind and bright even when your eyeballs betray you. You are an inspiration. You are going to beat this stupid thing and I will be there every step of the way. Oh, and Trump is totally getting Impeached this year. I love you.

Dear Grover,

Don’t die. I love you.

Elf on a Shelf

I’m sorry if this seems like both a painfully overwrought and vague post, but Luca sometimes reads the blog and I would like to hold on to what little magic is left in the world.

Have you heard of the Elf on a Shelf? Well, these magical creatures were first, um, discovered by Carol Aebersold, Chanda Bell and Steinwart, who wrote a hugely popular book about them and launched a marketing juggernaut. For any Lucas reading, this is not to suggest that Elves on Shelves are not real. They totally are. Now go practice piano.

The gist is these elves are sent my Santa as scouts to make sure kids are being good, because as we all know, Santa is super busy and his naughty/nice magic can’t be everywhere. That’s just crazy. So these elf guys are the rat finks of Christmas. The most interesting part is they move position during the overnight hours (to get a better angle on naughtiness) and the fun is discovering where the elf is every morning.

I was 100% against this tradition. I felt (incorrectly, Luca) that it was a gross commercialization of Christmas and I fancy myself more in the Charlie Brown wilted tree mold. I’m not even sure I accept Mariah Carey in that sexy Santa outfit.

Like all things I disagree with but never vocalize, Diana and the boys gleefully jumped in. After I saw how hook, line and sinker Luca was, my anti-elf Grinch heart grew three sizes. I was all in.

The only issue is, and this was not part of Carol Aebersold’s book, some elves forget to move overnight. It might be because they get distracted by cable news, or have a glass of wine or simply forget because they are fallible creatures.

When it is your goal to preserve as much magic as possible in an increasingly awful world, this is stressful. Especially when you have to go to Mexico to shoot a commercial.

So, I enlisted Elijah as my assistant elf-checker. Unlike guitar lessons, Eli threw himself into this new responsibility with great enthusiasm. He has really saved the elf’s bacon on multiple occasions.

During the official nighttime routine, Eli and I engage in a silent underground routine consisting of pantomimes and lots of mouthing of the word “elf.”

As of this writing, the elf hasn’t missed a night. There is still magic in the world.

Mystery Mean Mexican Kids

Luca’s newfound love of soccer still burns hot. He plays the FIFA videogame constantly. He recently gave me such a drubbing in the game that I made him go practice piano.

He also will play in our yard with anyone who willing to risk the 100% chance of stepping in Grover poop.

Additionally, Luca plays every day during recess. Against the Mystery Mean Mexican team. I’m pretty sure that’s racist. No, I’m definitely sure that’s racist. But “mean” and “Mexican” are the only descriptors Luca will uses.

They are this band of non-English speaking kids who I pray are from Mexico. Every day they thump Luca and his buddies at soccer during recess.

At night when I put Luca to bed, he describes in great detail the atrocities perpetrated against he and his friends.

“Dad. Today, one of the mean kids kicked me in the stomach.”

“Dad. One of the mean kids cheated and kicked a goal after time was over.”

“Dad. The mean kids pushed Luciano down and stuck his head in the mud.”

To which I always ask, “Why on Earth do you play with these jerks?”

Luca’s love for soccer is greater than his desire not to get his head stuck in the mud by a gang of mean kids.

I ask him if he can at least narc on them and get them in trouble with the recess monitor. Luca says the recess monitor is advised on all bullying, cheating and mud/head smashing. He claims the monitor doesn’t care.

I imagine the recess monitor is either a 25 year old child herself who can’t seem to hold back the tidal wave of screaming that washes over her every day, or a 55 year old grizzled veteran who could give two rats’ asses if you came to her with a bloody stump where your arm used to be.

A week or so ago, Luca excitedly told me his ragtag group won against the Mystery Mean Mexican kids. Yes! A win against the baddies!

The next day, Luca said the Mystery Mean Mexican kids recruited the P.E. teacher to play on their team and trounced Luca’s pals.

I’m beginning to think this is a fictional team.