Why the Grinch Stole Christmas

Ready? OK. (No, I wasn’t a cheerleader, except one short stint in fifth grade when we had really bad sweatsuit uniforms. Anyway.)

My personal belief is that the Grinch stole Christmas because his young Grinchlets (who are kept off camera because they are so spoiled, it would shock all those Who’s in Whoville) already have ALL THE THINGS. They have so many of ALL THE THINGS, they can’t think of another thing they want. And this aggravates the Grinch to no end. At himself, for giving them ALL THE THINGS in the first place, and at Christmas, which will only add to their collection and clutter the Grinch family cave that much more. Therefore, he and his trusty dog do the only thing they can possibly do – they steal Christmas.

I have a couple Grinchlets of my own. They have ALL THE THINGS. They have so many of ALL THE THINGS, they can’t even make a Christmas list. Well, one of them can, because she could NEVER REALLY have ALL THE THINGS – there’s always something else she wants. But the other one. Oh, the other one.

Sarah’s Christmas list consists of the following:

A Venus flytrap

Popsicle sticks (no idea why, except she likes to craft)

Guinea pig (Good luck with that. Nothing else that poops and doesn’t wipe itself is EVER coming into this house.)

Bulletin board (she has two of these already)

A $300 American Girl ice cream shoppe (this earns the unnecessary “pe” on the end due to its ridiculous price tag.)

That’s it. A truly hideous-looking plant that eats bugs. A rodent. An elaborate setup for dolls that no longer get played with.

And she’s stressed to the point of tears because she can’t come up with even one more thing for her Santa list. We discussed the fact that making your Santa list is supposed to be fun, not a task that makes you cry. She cried anyway, because her heart is soft and she’s afraid Santa will be disappointed because she already has ALL THE THINGS.

This Christmas, Sarah may get NONE OF THE THINGS because it’s mid-December, and I haven’t bought her a single present. Well, I bought her a snow globe. A very expensive snow globe. Because I’m at a total loss here. If there were a Dr. Pol veterinary kit, I could get her that, but I am not helping her castrate an animal whose testicles haven’t descended, nor are we pulling dead calves from cows’ wombs, and somehow that’s what Dr. Pol does every dang episode. I’m also not giving her a gift certificate allowing her to be wrapped in a bag and swallowed by an anaconda – that one would really ring her bell too.

This holiday season hasn’t been one of our better ones. I have wreaths and candles in just eight of the 12 windows of the house. Two of these light only intermittently. The twinkling web lights I sling over the bushes to appease Shelby’s need for sparkle are half burned out (which is mortifying, considering we’ve apparently gained a bunch of neighbors recently who deck the halls to nth degree.) Only one of our two trees got put up. I didn’t get it together to get Nutcracker tickets – we are going to the zoo Saturday, so at least there’s that – and our annual holiday tea is not going to make it on the calendar thanks to scheduling issues. I’m feeling pretty Grinchy lately myself, and not as into the spirit as I usually am. Even #thatdamnelf isn’t getting her usual share of attention – Shelby stopped believing last year, and Sarah forgets to look for her most mornings. I am coming to the slow and painful conclusion that I am only one woman, and not only do I not have ALL THE THINGS, I also cannot do ALL THE THINGS. Another post for another day.

Maybe I will just rewrap ALL THE THINGS we already have and put them under the tree. And pray Santa doesn’t show up with an anaconda-related gift certificate.