"Out of the kitchen came my mother, flushed and sparkly-eyed, bearing two wineglasses filled with the special Walgreen drugstore vintage that my Old Man especially favored. Christmas had officially begun. As they sipped their wine we plunged into the cornucopia, quivering with desire and the ecstasy of unbridled avarice." In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash - Jean Shepherd.
I am not always wrong. I can honestly say that in my forty-plus years of experience on this Earth, I am not always right. When it comes to useless trivia and word choices, I stand a pretty good chance of keeping the line above water. For those who may require proof of sorts I can offer the following:
- Instead of saying "peaceful" or "harmless", I may say "innocuous".
- Instead of replying to a driver who cut me off, while my daughter sits ignorant of what has transpired, with a swear or the profetic "middle finger", I may reply with a very subtle nod.
- And without pause I may say "elle a pété" instead of "She farted."
Imagine all this because I am not a m-o-r-on. Indeed, I have some sort of insight to the human psyche, and am really humble about it too.
Which brings me to this contradiction. I now know pretty much nothing, when it comes to babies.
Yes, they are cute. They smile and coo at the same unexpected moments that they will cry. When they are screaming madly, you can probably assume three things: wet diaper, hunger, or sleepy. And when the room that they are in smells, they have 99% of the time, really did a job to their diaper, which one may rest well in knowing that it will be sticky and that you will will have crap on your fingers, their fingers, their freshly washed clothing, and yours.
In all of this certainty, I felt fairly assured that our first Christmas with our daughter would be as described in an earlier story; however, I got it wrong. I assumed that we would all be sitting quietly on the sofa, while I read the baby to sleep. I assumed that upon waking and presents that she would be playing in a mountain of paper, when indeed she was sincerely only interested in her old familiar toys and in a freaky, cult-like Elmo robot that giggles and laughs, and says in a really creepy voice, "Elmo love you!" I assumed that on Christmas morning, we would awaken after a long sleep through the night with our eyes bright-eyed, when in fact we were still quite exhausted.
I am not complaining. I have no reason to.
Christmas is a celebration of all that is unexpected, where surprises are as joyous as the first walk in virgin snow - as joyous as holding hands and kissing under that mistletoe - as joyous as seeing the smiles on a little girl's face, first thing in the morning.
I am not always right, and I guess I am fine with that. Indeed, life is as unexpected as the reaction to Christmas gifts for a child not even a year old.
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