I Am Christmas (And So Can You)

Thanksgiving has come and gone. Black Friday is officially in the books. Merry old soul or not, the Christmas season is officially upon us. And, this past Monday marked what is called "Cyber Monday," which to me, sounds a lot like the business-end of a pervy 1-900-number conversation, only online. But, the reality of Cyber Monday shapes up more like Black Friday on your computer, only without those pesky retail chain policies like "no jammies or fluffy fake fur slippers."

This year, my sugar plum imagine-ings have been slow in coming - my festive spirit missed it's flight and is on stand-by, and I'm thinkin' this lack of merriment basically makes me a heathen! And as it turns out, my children and the Hubbs agree with the "you-be-a-grinch" diagnosis and have begun speaking with accents to try and get me in the Christmas mood. Five days of these accents, which really sound more like speech impediments, have caused me to wish all 3 of them harm. The accent consists of forming the letter "s" in the back of their mouths along with buckets of saliva which sounds like "zzzsssccchhh."

A typical conversation over the Thanksgiving holiday went something like this:

MY SON: "Mama, it'zsh time to meazshure me - I think I've grown - Do you know where the yardzshtick is?

ME: "I'm gonna chase you with that yardstick, if you don't stop it with the accent!"

MY SON: "Zshorry."

MY DAUGHTER: "Mama, I'd like to zshing you a zshong. It'zsh called I Zshaw Three Zshipzsh . . . . and ah one . . . and ah two . . . and ah three . . . "

ME: "Liv!" (said with a crazed look in my eye!)

MY DAUGHTER: "Zshorry."

THE HUBBS: "Yikezsch!! Thizsh cold weather izsh making me zshneezsh and wheezsh!"

ME: "Zshcott!"

So, to put an end to the "spit fest," I did a little exploring on the internet for some inspiration on "Decking of the Hallzsh" and I'd like to zshare a photo with you that kinda exprezshzshezsh my lack of energy.



Photo courtesy Apartment Therapy.

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