Gramma,
Five of the thirteen grandkids spent last weekend with us. After school was out, they arrived from three different directions, each about an hour away. The girls chose to share the queen size bed in the guest room, a room as big as a living room and outfitted with a fireplace and tv. That left the boys with the little room. The girls watched DVD's. Much to their chagrin, the boys wanted to hang out with them. Eventually, I sent them to watch tv in their room.
It took all morning to get them ready to go to a play. We stopped at Walgreens so I could pick up a prescription. They all chose a snack item and vitamin water for the road trip. Then they railroaded me into buying them each a small toy item. We were the first ones at the theatre. We looked at art displays while we waited. The kids couldn't believe the prices.
We saw "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever." Costumes reflected the sixties-seventies era. The father came out in the most hideous leisure suit I have ever seen. I almost said WTF out loud, which I related to him afterwards. The story revolved around two families from different sides of the track and a Christmas pageant run amok when the usual director was out of commission.
It was funny and poignant at times, interspersed with inappropriate behavior that delighted the kids. The mean girl was fond of smoking cigars in the church bathroom. She had no idea who Jesus was. The boys were terrified of her and her younger sister. The draw for this financially challenged family was free refreshments. In the end, the three wise guys brought peculiar gifts to the manger, including a canned ham from their welfare basket.
During intermission, the kids roped me into buying cookies, which I had intended to avoid, but it was a fundraising effort. I hadn't been to this bare bones theatre with open seating in a hodge-podge of chairs. We had seen all the plays at the usual venue, where the special effects and seating reflected a high degree of sophistication. In the car, I asked what they liked best. The naughty kids won out.
The last year of the Macy's Christmas display was showing in Minneapolis. In line, there was some annoying old bag in front of us. Her short dark hair was sprayed into a helmet. She held a winter scarf up to her nose and mouth the whole time, as if she were fending off chemical warfare. I began a barking cough, caused by dust, cobwebs and the smell of cigarette smoke on coats. Each time I coughed, she looked at me in horrified disgust. So I took pains to cough when I didn't need to.
The animated displays were worth the wait. Santa's gift shop beckoned at the end. Stuffed items were thirty percent off. I wanted to be young enough to own one of those soft treehouses with stuffed animals poking out all the knotholes. I asked the twins if they would like to share one. "We don't like to share," I could understand that. Everybody got their own.
The kids unboxed gingerbread houses before I could change out of my good clothes. I was tired and put some leftover hot dish in front of Dave. Veve and Ollie got into it over some triviality. Ollie stormed upstairs. I sent Dave after him. Eventually, he put down his book and rejoined us. Five houses were uniquely covered in frosting and candy. The table was littered with leftovers.
The kids ate pizza in the living room before heading to bed, which meant falling asleep with a movie. House cleanup the next morning took upwards of two hours. The twins were leaving around ten to go see Santa. Dave watched the Vikings play at noon, while I took two kids to Wisconsin. Dave took Ollie home while I watched the Packers play.
Memories were made. The twins said I was much more fun than their other gramma, and could they come for a week in the summer. I hoped so. More waffles with free reign of Reddi Whip and sprinkles. More hands for the dogs. More carrots for the donkeys.
Veve's mother called the following week to tell me that the kids were told to draw something that reminded them of Christmas. She drew a picture of a building with Macy's on the front of it.
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