Nessie

The children have been looking at a book from the library about Scotland (because of their evil Aunt's impending move there), and wouldn't you know--they are all fascinated, absolutely fascinated by . . . the Loch Ness Monster. M has drawn all kinds of pictures (and then hidden them, apparently, because I can't find them now) and has spent most of the day on the couch staring at a fuzzy picture purported to be said monster. E keeps coming up with explanations: "I bet someone carved a big log to look like the Loch Ness Monster and put it out there. Do you think maybe it was a rock? When was the last time anyone saw it?" And Tooie vacillates between longing and loathing: "Do you think the 'cotland Monster has TEEF?" "Do 'cotland Monsters EAT people?" "I think when we go to 'cotland the 'cotland Monster will say [funny voice here] 'oh, I think I will go up and visit Tooie and his family.' "

Everyone wants Aunt to be on the look out for the Loch Ness/'cotland Monster when she gets to Scotland. And then, when she locates it, they want to come and visit it themselves. Tooie's last words before he went to sleep tonight went something like this:

"Will the monster stay up and visit us if we are nice to it?"

Mom (distractedly): "um hmm, probably"

Tooie (with lots of spit): "Then I will be EXtra nice to it when I see it."

Tomorrow M is preparing a letter to send to Aunt with a picture of the monster and the instructions, "Look for this monster in the ocean when you are going to Scotland." Marmot Dad is trying to quash their belief in the beast, but I say if Leonard Nimoy suggested that it was real, well, I'm a true believer.

The Old Christmas Spirit

I was lying down with the girls tonight when I heard a knock on the door. I got up, peeked out the front window, and saw my neighbor's daughter, so I opened the door . . . only to discover that said daughter was proffering . . . a roll of toilet paper. Somewhat stunned, I took it, thanked her, waved to her mother in the car (who hollered out "Merry Christmas!"), and closed the door. There was a little note attached: "Money is scarce and times are hard, so we're giving you this instead of a card." There was more, but I can't bring myself to write it down. I was just given a festive Christmas roll of toilet paper.

Now I know that civilization is on the very verge of collapse.

In other Christmas news, Marmot Dad has been engaging in his favorite holiday pastime, Elf-Like Behavior (ELB). On his latest round, he came home to tell me some of what he had picked up here and there, whereupon I told him what he should have picked up, and where. So he has renamed his ELB "Elf-Like Blunders."

(Note: in all fairness, Marmot Dad's Elf-Like Behavior is generally of the highest quality--he has a knack for stocking stuffers, particularly for little girls, that borders on the amazing.)