Aw, damp! (and other Christmas stories)

It's December 27 and it's 70°F out (21°C). Phoebe put on her swimsuit and asked if we could go to the pool (which we couldn't do because they close the pools for the winter here—like, why tho?). She played outside in her swimsuit all day long. 

She also drew some pictures with markers...and got quite a bit of marker on her lips...and hands...and legs.

Rachel, Miriam, Phoebe and I were walking a few days before Christmas and we passed by a house that is all decked out in Christmas Star Wars inflatables. One says "Droid to the World!" instead of "Joy to the World." Unfortunately, they weren't turned on when we passed by.

"Aw, damp," Phoebe said energetic...dejection. 

"What?!" I choked. 

"All those things are damp," she explained, pointing. "I wanted to see them."

"Oh!" we three older people chorused with relief. 

"Do you perhaps mean...limp?" Rachel asked. 

"No. I mean damp," said Phoebe confidently.

"Damp is when something is a little bit wet."

"Oh," said Phoebe. "I thought it was when something didn't have enough air in it."

"I'm pretty sure you mean limp."

"I don't think so."

We'll never quite be sure of what she meant, but we do know she was disappointed that the inflatables weren't inflated.

*****

Still a few days before Christmas and Phoebe was starting to grow concerned about the state of our Christmas tree. I haven't put presents under my tree in years. I hoard everything in my closet until Christmas Eve and put them out then (mostly/usually). 

This year was no different, so our tree was rather empty under its glittering boughs. 

"You know, Mom," Phoebe said to me sweetly, while gently caressing my face. "Some people put presents under their tree. Are we going to put presents under our tree?"

"We will," I said. "In a couple of days." 

"Oh, good!" Phoebe said, sighing with relief.