You're In the Christmas Now
Up at 4:30 a.m.Immediately, command decisions must be made. Negotiations must be conducted with allies--and foes. By 6:00 a.m., you are full-tilt into the day. By 8:00 a.m., you've done more than most people do all day.
The Army? No, just Christmas with Eli 4.4.
"DADDY! IT'S CHRISTMAS!" Eli 4.4 yells. In the dark. At 4:30 a.m. As he bounces on our bed.
"Little Dude, Santa doesn't end his North American run until 6 a.m.," I said. We went out to the NORAD website last night and got hourly updates on Santa's position. He was entering Canadian airspace when Eli went up for his bath--when he heard that he nodded with a satisfied "everything's on schedule" look.
"No getting up until 6 a.m.," I said. "Santa's a recluse. He's Howard Hughes with a weight problem and a sleigh." Eli grudgingly consents and crawls into bed with us.
This kicks off, quite literally, an entirely predictable pattern. Eli always crawls into bed on Gloria's side. Within minutes, he will be kicking his feet and thrashing around, which will make Gloria move over. By "move over" I mean "move into me." After about fifteen minutes, I'm clinging to the bed like a stuntman hanging on to the side of a train. Soon after that, I'll be taking my pillows and evacuating to the guest room, where the bed is uncomfortable but the atmosphere is much less open-air market.
6:02 a.m. The door flies open and hits into the side wall with a jump-inducing slam. "DADDY! IT'S CHRISTMAS! WOO HOOOOOOOO!"
And it's on.
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