TEN

And just like that, I have no more single digit children. Eli is 12. Grover is 98. And now Luca is 10.

Sigh.

In the weeks leading up to his big day, Luca painfully curated his list: One NFL regulation whistle. One NFL regulation referee flag. One NFL regulation football tee. 

I asked Luca about maybe loosening up his list a bit so he could actually be surprised by his gifts. “But then I might not get exactly what I want,” was his reply. Once a Hamann. Always a Hamann.

Elijah, on the other hand, likes to give his gift givers a thousand options, each more expensive than the last.

Soon, Amazon.com boxes arrived containing the exact things Luca asked for. Eli took it upon himself to open every single box to make sure the knowledge of the contents could be used to torture his brother. 

As punishment for said torture, I forced Eli to help me wrap. But anyone who reads the blog knows wrapping presents gives me great, obsessive compulsive joy. Measuring. Folding. Taping. These are almost erotic activities for me. Once Eli started in on his style of wrapping (balling paper around a present like a used tissue) I banished him to watch whatever he wanted on TV.

We agreed to allow Luca to open his presents on his birthday morning, ignoring Eli’s fact-finding efforts’ revelation that Luca didn’t, in fact, leave his mother’s body until 4:44pm ten years ago. 

This posed a few problems. First, it eliminated any chance that Luca would sleep. Diana’s approach to Luca’s sleeplessness was, “Tough Tinker Toys. Get yer butt in bed and stay there.” I, being the official pushover of the house, offered to stay with him until he fell asleep. I embarked on a long journey of watching Luca devolve into a blubbering monster. Shifting from bouts of rage to weeping to total spaz-outs. 

I tried everything to get him to calm down from rage to weeping to total spaz-outs of my own. Finally, I gave up and went to my own bed at 3am. What I failed to remember was Luca knows how to work a door knob and moved his sleepless fits to our bed. Diana wordlessly took her pillow and dog and moved to our guestroom.

Which leads to the second problem. No one told Luca when morning technically starts. He raced around our house at o-dark o’clock, waking everyone, his body oblivious to the previous night. Diana and I melted down the stairs and onto the couch. Eli flat out refused to participate since he already knew what was inside all the presents. 

Luca tore in. One NFL regulation whistle. One NFL regulation referee flag. One NFL regulation football tee. 

I have never seen a child run around a house shouting, “I got a football tee! I got a football tee!”

But then he got to Grandma Connie’s presents. She…gasp…went rogue. No presents from the list. A Bears jersey. A Bears game. Bears books. Cubs books. Bears gloves. Everywhere Luca’s gaze fell, Bears Bears Bears. He was elated. And actually surprised.

After I got ready for work, I found Luca reading his Bears book while sitting on a catatonic Diana, who was laying prone on the couch.