It\u2019s getting very hard to keep up with this blog as Christmas gets ever closer, as preparations for Christmas start becoming more and more like a full time job. The decorations and lights are up; the cards are sent; about 75% of the presents are bought. But now there are the parties and the neighbor gifts and the recitals and the choir concerts and everything that makes this season so blastedly cheerful. I\u2019m not complaining; I\u2019m just making excuses. (I\u2019m not sure which is worse.)<\/p>\n
I did find time on Saturday, however, to immortalize my own Christmas miracle<\/a> in song, which made its debut at the ward Christmas party as \u201cThe Miracle of the Christmas Poo.\u201d I\u2019m going to record a version, and I\u2019ll be happy to post that here on my blog. (I sincerely doubt, however, that such a recording will take place prior to Christmas.) \u00a0I\u2019m pretty sure it\u2019s the first Christmas tune to combine yuletide cheer and excrement with faith-building results. I\u2019m absolutely sure that it\u2019s the first time such a song has been sung in a church. I\u2019d like the ward choir to come up with their own arrangement, but that\u2019s proving to be a tough sell.<\/p>\n As I get older, however, I become more of an embarrassment to my children. I practiced this little ditty throughout the day, and my oldest daughter Cleta was morbidly aghast.<\/p>\n \u201cYou can\u2019t sing that in public!\u201d she wailed.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy not?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause it\u2019s about poo!\u201d<\/p>\n That should have been self-evident, I suppose, but I\u2019m not sure it\u2019s an automatic disqualifier. I asked if I could sing Spinal Tap\u2019s \u201cChristmas with the Devil\u201d instead, whereupon I was told to choose something \u201cmore appropriate.\u201d So by that standard, I\u2019m on solid ground.<\/p>\n I note, however, that Cleta\u2019s aversion to Christmas scatology is hard won. Not long before I started crooning of Stalliondo\u2019s dirty diaper, we received a Christmas card from an ad agency I work with that had a faux urine stain on the front of the envelope. On the cover of the actual card were four members of the agency standing in front of snow banks with phrases like \u201cHappy Holidays,\u201d \u201cFeliz Navidad,\u201d and \u201cSeason\u2019s Greetings\u201d written in yellow behind them. The fourth member just stood there looking angry, and behind her was a big yellow splotch. When you opened the card, a line of people in front of a snowy cabin stood with their backs to you, with their names written in yellow-snow cursive directly in front of them.<\/p>\n The headline of the card? \u201cWizzing you a Merry Christmas.\u201d<\/p>\n Cleta has been hanging all of our cards up in the kitchen, but this particular one didn\u2019t make it on the wall.<\/p>\n Almost-12-year-old Cleta is becoming a bit of a Grinch, announcing that Santa Claus is a \u201cstalker\u201d who should not be encouraged. So we let her know that Santa doesn\u2019t bring presents to those who do not believe in him, so she dutifully wrote her letter to Santa Claus, thereby allowing her greed to get the better of her skepticism.<\/p>\n Still, the letter was not without its Grinchy charms.<\/p>\n It begins thusly:<\/p>\n Santa!<\/p>\n Hello, my parents say you need<\/span> a letter. Can\u2019t you just read minds or something?<\/p><\/blockquote>\n She proceeds to detail her wish list, and then she closes with the following two post-scripts:<\/p>\n P.S. If you can see us when you\u2019re sleeping, and you know when we\u2019re awake, what was I doing at 11:47 AM on February 9, 2008? I expect an answer by Dec. 25. Buh-bye!<\/p>\n P.P.S. Does Rudolph take steroids to make his nose glow?<\/p><\/blockquote>\n I have no idea where she gets this from.\u00a0<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"It\u2019sgetting very hard to keep up with this blog as Christmas gets ever closer, as preparations for Christmas start becoming more and more like a full time job. The decorations and lights are up; the cards are sent; about 75% of the presents are bought. But now there are the parties and the neighbor gifts ... 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