I refused to pay the exorbitant price that rip-off company at the mall charges for some untrained teenager to carelessly press a button on a camera while some unsavory character in a smelly fur suit forces my child to sit upon his questionable lap.
So I had an unsavory Henry slap on a smelly plastic rabbit mask, shrug into a blazer that hasn’t seen the light since 1989, and force our child to sit upon his questionable lap.
I think Henry could have tried a little harder, but what can you do. Besides make the rest of his night a living hell, which I fully intend.
Afterward, we had a lovely dinner at my mom’s house with Alisha, Henry’s mom and my brother Ryan. Corey is still in London and he was missed. We drank wine from real wine glasses this time, Corey! Post-dinner was full of HILARIOUS anecdotes (told by yours) and at one point I called Henry a spring chicken and we all laughed heartily. Then I pressured him about marriage, creating room for awkward and uncomfortable chuckles. Henry’s mom said something about it “just being a piece of paper” and I almost screamed, “I knew you didn’t want me to be your daughter-in-law!” but remembered I had just downed two glasses of very potent spiced wine and thought better of it.
Chooch showed Ryan the zombie games he plays online and they bonded over that for awhile, even went outside and played with a basketball, portraying a regular uncle-nephew scene from a Norman Rockwell painting and my head almost exploded. It was awesome. The bonding, not the near-explosion.
My mom said Ryan told her he was going to go home and check out more of the zombie games.Good job, Chooch! I kept suggesting to Ryan, “You should babysit him sometime!” and he kept laughing. But I wasn’t joking.
Alisha had stuffed cabbage for the first time and bragged a lot about Arkansas; Henry’s mom and my mom talked about things; I piped up every now and then to remind everyone how lucky they are that someone as fantastic as me would even bother spending such a grand holiday with their ragtag asses.
Then Chooch fell and scraped his knee on the driveway and it has been a regular scene from Vietnam around here ever since. Everything is “my scrape!!!!” this and “I’M DYING!!!!!” that.
Next holiday, please.