Grandma remarked over dinner how lean the hamburger was. Obviously it’s not Egyptian hamburger (which is more grisly than anything). Rachel, trying to contribute to the conversation and stay on topic, agreed with her,
“Yeah. It’s kinda mean. They don’t like him nose.”
Lean --> mean = what all of the other reindeer are.
Rachel watched Rudolf for the second time this morning. The first time was yesterday. Grandma brought the DVD out with her because Christmas isn’t Christmas without watching Rudolf.
Andrew finds it blasphemous that this particular DVD was broken out before Thanksgiving.
For some reason Andrew tries to make our family abide by this hard and fast no-Christmas-before-Thanksgiving rule. I asked him today if he realized that this would only make his family purposely rebel against that rule. He answered with a silly grin that he did. I think that he wants us to teasingly try his patience so he can teasingly dispense his wrath back. It will be like some sick game we play every autumn—who can sing jingle bells the longest without Dad noticing?
Later on at dinner Rachel cheerfully piped up with this happy little announcement (I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know what it means):
“I’m such a misfit!”
Then Karen started singing for her, “Why am I such a misfit? I am not just a nit-wit. Just because my nose glows, seems I don't fit in.”
Andrew cringed. Quoting Christmas movies is against the rules since we still have twelve sleeps until American Thanksgiving.* Singing songs from Christmas movies is even more against the rules.
To make up for her early Christmas celebrations, Andrew sat Rachel down to watch the first half of the futbol game on TV. For some reason he’s really into it, which I understand to a certain degree. While Karen thinks American football is entertaining, I see no value in the game. Soccer is much easier for me to watch. And understand.
Egypt scored within the first two minutes of the game. Andrew actually yelled. I’ve never seen him so worked up about sports.
Later, with Rachel sitting right beside him on the couch—naked because she had just gotten out of the bath (*splash, cough, silence* “Are you okay in there?” *splash, drowning sounds, cough* “No! I’m not ready to get out yet! I’m just playing!”)—he yelled, “Now that was definitely a foul!”
The little parrot repeated, “That’s defitly foul!” screaming and pointing at the screen just like her daddy.
To counteract his anti-Christmas-pre-Thanksgiving sentiments I sang Rachel Christmas lullabies tonight. Ending with Away in a Manger was a good call. She started whimpering when I told her that was the last song so I repeated the last few lines:
but little Lord Jesus no crying he makes/I love thee Lord Jesus, look down from the sky/and stay by my cradle ‘til morning is nigh.
Then I told her that she needs to do the same. And we haven’t heard a peep from her. I’m not sure which “same” she picked, whether it was the no crying like Jesus or the part where the narrator of the song, supposedly a small child, asks Jesus to stay by their cradle (or, in Rachel’s case, bed) until the morning.
Whatever she did, it worked. She fell asleep without screaming.
Andrew was impressed.
So Christmas songs are in, then?
*I also asked him if this rule would apply if we lived in Canada. He said that it would. He’s silly.