I am an Expert Present Stasher

Want to know how? I leave them in empty diaper boxes in my bedroom and explicitly tell my family not to look in the box or they'll ruin Christmas.

I said "ruin Christmas" quite innocently, but Katie seems to have taken it to heart. A box arrived at our house (probably because someone to whom we are related ordered it online and had it shipped directly here) and Mike told me not to open it. I jokingly picked up the scissors to tease Katie, who burst into near-hysterics because I was going to "ruin Christmas" by opening my present. Geez, little Drama Queen. I don't know where she got that.

In other news, I need to go get some fudge that I made yesterday. Hold on a second.

Aaah, that's better. What was I saying? Oh yeah. Christmas angst is really accelerating around here. Even with Katie's serious "ruining Christmas" panic issues, it's obvious that her curiosity is nearly getting the best of her. More than once have I come into the living room to find Katie holding one of her presents close to one of her brothers, saying, "Here Joshy, want to see my present?" And you can see on her face the little, "If Mom catches us, you'll be the one in trouble." Little stinker.

Lucky for you, I have a notepad full of ridiculous Katie quotes I can try to relate. But my brain is only slightly functional tonight on account of I just COULD NOT sleep last night, until 3 am when Katie decided she wanted to get in bed with me and "snuggle." So if it seems kinda ramble-y, forgive me. And come back later when I've written a moderately more coherent post. For now, this is what you're going to get.

So, the last couple of family home evenings, we've been trying to talk to Katie about different parts of the Christmas story. Last week, I did a little lesson about the wise men, and how they followed the star and brought gifts to Jesus because they loved him. She totally got it, by the way. I caught her telling the story to her brothers with her little Fisher Price nativity. In puppet show format.

Wise Men: Here, we brought you some sanks and myrrh.
Baby Jesus: Oh, thanks. That's great.

On a (sort of) related note, we've also been trying to help Katie expand her prayer abilities. She's been saying her own prayers for a while now, but it's gotten to where she says the same things every time, and speaks almost unintelligibly quickly and quietly. So Mike and I have tried to explain to her that you don't have to say the same thing every time. You can say whatever you're thankful for. So now, every single prayer of Katie's, she is thankful for Daddy, Mommy, Katie, Josh, Peter, a bed, and shampoo. But you know what? So am I.

She has also been expanding her exercise repertoire. Now she does ballet. Watching it, I thought to myself, ninja-gorillas doing parkour. But she performed multiple shows for me the other day, and announced their names as she did them. I got lucky front-row seats to "France and Nancy," "Super Doo," and "Frankenboobie." You know you're jealous.

Two more short quotes:

Looking back at her hard work: "Look, Mom! Those are handsome, good-looking poopies."

After cuddling on the couch, when I had to get up because the boys woke up: "Oh! My body hurts! Your body was making me nice and warm, but now your body got away from me! Oh my heart!"

See what I mean? Drama queen.

As for the boys, I think they're starting to get this mischief thing down. They totally double team me all the time. And if I notice and say their names, they turn and look at me with the rascal face. The rascal face! At their age! Geez, I'm in for it.

The other day, Peter found the tube of Desitin. Rather than smack it on the floor, like he does with pretty much everything else, he started hollering at his brother, and they both army-crawled to the middle of the room (from opposite ends) to work on opening it together.

If I'm ever holding both at once, it automatically becomes a wrestling match, with each boy trying to both push his brother off my lap while simultaneously stealing his binky. Luckily they're still pretty evenly matched.

Oh! And Joshy is finally gaining weight, but I'm fairly sure he's never going to be chunky. Want to know why? He's got a whole inch on his brother. Peter still has the weight advantage, but Joshy's getting super tall! Also, he has the metabolism of a hummingbird that runs hurdles. He is a bottomless pit. I can only say that it's a good thing Mike's going to be a doctor because any salary smaller and we'd go bankrupt just trying to feed these guys when they're teenagers.

Merry Christmas, you guys. Next time you'll probably get to see a bunch of pictures or hear ridiculous stories about our Christmas shenanigans and tomfoolery.