Depressing thots from Gramps

Guess what? I got an e-mail from Grandpa Jim.

Hello, April! I'll bet you are surprised to receive e-mail from your old gramps! Well, my physiotherapist is a wonderful woman, and as you can see, she has gotten me to the point where I can type again.

Iris and I have been following your stories about the "Christmas" dinner, and I thought you might be interested to know what happened on our end after that gathering.

Iris, God bless her, feels the need to fill in for my silence by speaking for the both of us. I can't blame her. I might be the same way if our positions were reversed. But I confess, it does grate at times.

Anyway, Iris had exited the Para-Bus at our building's unloading dock, and while I was being wheeled out, I noticed that Iris, Simon the driver/aide, and I had all gone into that weird, white silhouette-with-outlines people go into from time to time in Milborough. It was snowing in large, elliptical snowflakes, and the wind was visibly blowing in swirl formation. Iris said, "Thank you very much, Simon." And Simon replied, "You're welcome, Mrs. Richards," as he is wont to do.

As Iris wheeled me to the elevator, she said, "That was nice, wasn't it, Jim." That was a statement, rather than a question. This depressed me, since it reminded me that I couldn't answer and a response was not expected. She continued, "It's good to be with family." As she pressed the "up" button for the elevator, she said, "You were the patriarch tonight! Everyone was so proud to have a great-grandfather at the table!" I know that Iris means well, but I did not see any evidence that this was true. I was mostly ignored, and I had the distinct impression that most of my family were thinking cruel, uncharitable thoughts during Mira Sobinski's lovely grace. I think she was the only other person at the table who understood the spirit of the season. Oh, I know that you "get it," too, April, but as you know, you had been banished to the kids' table in the kitchen. If only I could have talked, I would have argued that we should put those two tables together so that everyone could be in one place for the dinner.

While wheeling me into our apartment, Iris prattled on, "And you stayed until the end of the evening. --As Christmases go, that was a first!" Then I had a thought, which oddly felt as though it was the final statement in a quasi-delusional 60-year-old woman's once-funny, now soap-opera comic strip: "As Christmases go, my deareast Iris... It might be my last."

I know that was a terribly depressing thought, April. But I don't seem to be getting better (past reaching the point where I can write this, for which I am grateful), and I don't think my ability to speak will ever come back. You reach a certain point where life ceases to be enjoyable, and though I hate the thought of leaving behind loved ones, like you and Iris, I know I'll be in a better place when I finally go. And we'll all meet again someday, so I don't fear death.

Well, that was altogether too serious for a moment, there. Oh, and I want to let you know that the high point of our evening was when you played the guitar and sang for us, April. It was kind of unfortunate when your big sister tried to harmonize, though. She's really let her vocal exercises lapse over the years. Oh, and when Robin grabbed hold of your guitar and yanked at the strings until they broke? It's sad that his parents have failed to teach him that this is a bad thing to do. Iris has ordered some more strings for you, and they should arrive in the coming week.

Well, this has been longer than I anticipated, but it just feels so good to be able to write to you! Best wishes for a wonderful new year! May you and your friends realize your dreams and goals for 2008.

Love,

Grandpa Jim

Aww, thanx 4 writing, Gramps. It makes me sad that U R feeling that death wd B better than life, but I think I understand what U R talking abt. And I'm glad U enjoyed my guitar playing. Thanx 2 U and Iris 4 ordering more strings.

Oh, 4 the anon poster who wanted 2 know if Gerald still reads and posts here. He still reads here, but hasn't posted 4 a while. We've stayed friends, but things have been a bit awkward between us. IM sure he will B interested 2 know abt his name meaning "strong lance" in ancient German. He luvs that kinda thing!

Apes

They've only just begun ... 2 bore U!

So, after Jeremy an' I left Howard's place last nite, we were walking back 2 my house, and who shd we run in2 but Anthony. He had Françoise on his shoulders, and she was, like, asleep, using Ant's head as a pillow.

Anthony was all, "Hello, future sister-in-law and her consort!" Jeremy sed, "Isn't it a bit l8 2 B out w/yr not-even-3-yo? She's so xxhausted she's fallen asleep." Anthony sed, "Don't mind her. I'm not the kind of parent who rearranges his life 2 accomod8 a yung child. She has 2 learn 2 fit in2 my life!" I sed, "She's v. v. yung, Anthony. U have 2 make sum adjustments. . . ." And he cut me off, "Stuff and nonsense!" I sed, "Oh, gah, U picked that up fr. Mike, didn't U?" And he sed, "Yr brother is a published author and Milborough's reigning celebrity! Y wdn't I pick up sum of his language usage?" I bonked myself on the head w/my hand then, cuz I didn't know what 2 say. Anthony was all, "C? U don't even know what 2 say! If U paid closer attention 2 the published author in yr family, and emul8ed his speech habits, U wd alwayz know what 2 say!" Jeremy jumped 2 my defence and sed, "There's nuthing wrong w/being speechless every 1ce in a while! Even Mike was speechless when Weed asked him 2 make a speech @ that party @ Weed's place, or so I hear. And just cuz Mike nearly always sez whatev st00pid thing pops in2 his hed doesn't make him brilliant, it makes him an idiot!"

Anthony was like, "Pish posh! But since it's the holiday seazon, I will let that comment slide. I M 2 xxcited abt my future w/Eeeeeeeeelihhhhhhhhhzaaaaaahhhhhbehhhhth 2 let the snide comments of teenagers ruin my bouyant mood!" I sed, "U can call her 'Liz' U know." And he sed, "Didn't U get the memo?" I sed, "Sure, and after I shredded it, it made an xxcellent liner 4 Butterscotch the dog-rabbit's cage, @ the Pattermanse."

Anthony shook his hed. "U really R out of step w/the rest of yr family." And I sed, "Thanx!" Ant was like, "NEway. Yr SIL Deanna seemed v. relieved 2 C her parents leave Sunday nite, er, 'Xmas,' even tho her father was v. flattering, saying, 'That was a luvly Xmas dinner, Deanna.' Dee sed, 'Thanx, Dad,' and Mrs. Sobinski sed, 'Gd nite, dear.' Then it was our turn 2 leave. I wanted 2 stay longer, but that pesky Mira had made such a big deal abt the fact that Francie had fallen asleep, I had 2 leave just 2 save face. So Eeeeeeeeelihhhhhhhhhzaaaaaahhhhhbehhhhth and I put on our coats, and we got Francie in2 hers w/out waking her up. I picked her up so she was facing me, w/her hed resting on my shoulder. Eeeeeeeeelihhhhhhhhhzaaaaaahhhhhbehhhhth put a hand on my shoulder and I cd sense that she was looking @ Francie tenderly. Ha-ha, my plan is working! Oh, where was I? Yes, so I told Michael and Deanna, 'I think we'll B taking this one home. She's had a big day.' And Deanna sed, 'I'm so glad U cd come, Anthony.'"

Jeremy cut in w/"Hey, if this story has a pt, feel free 2 get 2 it." Anthony ignored him and went on, "When I was loading Francie in2 the car seat, which Officer Luggsworth forced me 2 buy, BTW, the little scamp woke 2 ask, 'Daddy? Is everything over? And I sed, 'No, sweetheart.' BTW, we'd loaded the car w/gifts, including a couple of plush-toys: a reindeer and a bunny. Eeeeeeeeelihhhhhhhhhzaaaaaahhhhhbehhhhth told me that the bunny showed that Francie has officially been accepted in2 the family! Well, I got in2 the driver's seat, and remembered the question Francie had asked. I continued my 'No, sweetheart' answer in my hed, 'I think everything's abt 2 begin.'" By then, Francie had fallen asleep, and Eeeeeeeeelihhhhhhhhhzaaaaaahhhhhbehhhhth had one of those blank looks I luv so much."

I sed, "W8 a minute. Do U EVER give yr daughter a str8 answer abt NEthing? Poor kid, all she meant was whether the nite's festivities were over. Yr 'no' answer made her think U were, like, continuing 2 another party." Ant shook his hed. "Yr brother is rite. U really R a killjoy. Giving str8 answers 2 small children? Who does that? Where's the comedy?"

I turned 2 Jeremy an' sed, "We have 2 promote that Francie therapy-fund website as much as we can. Poor kid." Anthony shook his hed and sed, "Well, I M not letting the official sourpuss of the Patterson family destroy my good mood. I'm going 2 keep walking around until sunrise and then wake up this little rugrat and tell her the sky is on fire!" Jeremy sed, "I'm going 2 get on that therapy site rite away and make another contribution." And I sed, "same here."

That's it 4 now.

Apes

The So-Called Adult Table

So, Merry Xmas! Of course, U mite remember my fam celebr8ed Xmas a couple of days early, all so the meal part of the storytelling cd fall on Xmas day. NEway, Mike has this 2 share abt what happed in the dining rm while I was releg8ed 2 the kiddie table in the kitchen:

April,

Formerly little sis. Merry Christmas from the adult table. Sometimes it is those last minute changes at Christmas, which make things exciting. For example, after having changed out the glass in the door at the end of our dining room and having changed the light fixture from when mom lived here, who would have ever suspected that Deanna would make me change them again at the last minute. Literally, we were playing with the napkins and setting the table for Christmas Dinner when Deanna said to me, “Michael. I want a whole new light fixture. I want the one with 5 different little lights, almost like a chandelier. And those glass doors, I want the glass to be plain like it was before, but the bottom part to be wooden, almost as if it was a china cabinet than glass doors.” Well, I made those changes; but just barely.

But then, Deanna decided that all the women had to wear dresses and their shoes had to be from the same design, only with their shoes matching their dress colour and no lady could be wearing the same colour. I am sure you heard part of that argument. But Deanna won, and everyone’s shoes were colour-coordinated.

But then, Deanna decided that all the men needed to sit in chairs with raised bottoms, of the chairs and not the men, even though the net effect was the same. Deanna said it would symbolize the fact that men’s feet didn’t touch the ground even though women’s did, and this would be a good symbol for Christmas. Well, I spent the better part of the day, padding chairs, but it did work. My feet, and every other man’s feet did not touch the ground when we were sitting down for the Christmas Dinner. The exception of course, was Grandpa Jim, who took Iris’ chair. So Iris’ feet dangled, and Grandpa Jim’s didn’t. By the way, I was very surprised when he came and made it to the dining room table just using a cane. It’s hard to believe that just 2 months ago, he could barely stay conscious. I must say, the curative properties of my book Stone Season cannot be underestimated.

But then, Deanna decided that she wanted an Advent candle display on the table, with the candles lit. This was actually fairly pretty, and would have worked out if Anthony hadn’t leaned into them and singed off part of his eyebrow. I am not sure why Anthony sat right in front of those candles.

But then Deanna and mom got into it about mom’s decision to wear a sweater over her shoulders and keep her hair in a bun. Apparently, when Deanna was sending out the notification about the women’s dress code, our mom ignored it and wore her hair in a bun and she wore the sweater too. Mom’s argument was that if Mira Sobinski was going to wear a low-cut dress showing off her cleavage like a pole dancer, then she was going to wear the garments of a proper lady.

But then Deanna and her mom got into an argument about whether or not it was judicious to include the dogs in on the family meal, if you and the children were left out. Finally it was decided it was more important to try to teach the dogs good manners by putting them in the presence of adults, than to include the kids in the meal. It didn’t really matter. Grandpa Jim ‘s old dog passed out from all the Havarti, he slipped her on the side.

After all these last minute changes were made, we finally got to the dinner. We were sitting down with the food in front of us, all ready to wolf it down in seconds, when you would not believe what Mira Sobinski had the nerve to do. She said, “Now…Shall I say grace?” At first I thought she was going to just say the word, “Grace” and then we could and would start eating. But she actually started talking and she was saying things like, “Thank you for families who can get together over Christmas. Thank you for this meal my daughter and all the many hands who have laboured over it.” Simply ridiculous stuff. Now, if you can remember back to 2002, when I did the grace, that was a great prayer. People were practically begging for me to say grace at every meal. That’s how it should be done. Short, sweet, and so impersonal it could have been said about any family on any occasion.

Well, Mira’s prayer went on and on and on. In fact, there came a point where I opened my eyes and took a look at the thought balloons beside me. Deanna was thinking, “Mom, please hurry. Everything’s getting cold.” This was kind of a funny one when you think about how Deanna’s mom’s food was brought all the way over from Burlington, and it had to be reheated when they got here. Dad was thinking, “She always goes on and on and on!” Right dad! Kind of like watching a train go around a track. Dad is always thinking in train metaphors. Then mom was thinking, “Snore”. I found out later, she had eaten so much dessert before she came to the dinner, that it had caused him [her] to fall asleep. I was thinking, “Come on, Mira! Enough already!” That’s because I wanted her to stop. Iris was thinking, “Smells good anyway.” I suppose that’s her old lady confirmation that her nose still works. Elizabeth was sitting beside me and not beside Anthony because (and this is so typical of her), Anthony and she are “just friends.” So, to prove this she sat by me. Liz was thinking, “Hungry!!” What can I say about that? That’s Liz. Grandpa Jim was thinking, “Sometimes, I think we have no idea just how fortunate we really are!” Yes, April, Grandpa Jim wanted to do the prayer, and since Mira took it over from him, he just decided to think the prayer he planned to do. Thanks goodness he can’t talk.

I would tell you what Wilf Sobinski was thinking, but really, who cares? Anthony Caine was thinking, “I think I smell something burning” and he was right. Who would have known his eyebrows would be so flammable.

So, you see, April, you really didn’t miss much at Christmas Dinner.

Love,
Michael Patterson

This story has been brought 2 U by the fact that my fam is full of awful ppl. What terrible thots they were having just cuz Mira was saying grace! Oh, noes, they cdn't dig rite in! I'm sure the food was turning 2 ice in the minute it took 4 her 2 talk.

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, I told the children, "It's traditional 2 begin by saying grace." And Françoise sed, "May I?" And I sed, "Sure, Y not?"

Then she was like, "Although I am about two and a half months short of my third birthday, I have an unrealistically advanced vocabulary and verbal maturity. Therefore, it is only fitting that I should deliver the grace before this meal. I am thankful that the Patterson family was gracious enuf 2 invite me and my daddy, even tho both sets of my grandparents were anxious 2 C us 2day. Daddy sed being part of the Patterson clan wd mean cutting off ties with them. And that makes me sad. But I digress. I thank the Lord Almighty for this meal before us, though it looks as though most of it is inedible. Thank you, Lord, for having April bring in the couscous cakes, the lentil dish, and the salade sans doigts. Thank you for this gathering, even tho the adults have seen fit 2 sequester the minors in a kiddie ghetto. Thank you for another year on this earth, and may the next year bring us peace, prosperity, and renewable energy so that we can eliminate our dependence on fossil fuels. Amen!"

NEway, that's what was happening in the kitchen.

Apes

Kiddie table

4 sum reason, my fam, the Sobinskis, and Anthony all agreed 2 have Xmas dinner yesterday an' pretend it was actually Xmas, as if sum 60-yo woman were telling the story abt our holiday meal and d-cided that the actual d8 was when she was dun talking abt or in the middle of when she was talking abt it, instead of the more logical when she starts talking abt it.

NEhoodles, as soon as I walked in I picked up Anthony's massive [fingerless] salad 2 put it on the dining-room table, and Dee, standing by the kiddie table in the kitchen, was all, "April, we have so many ppl here 2nite, I was hoping U wdn't mind sitting here @ the kitchen table w/the children." I was all, "Umm." Dee, taking the salad from me, sed, "I know U're not a kid! It's not a put-down. We just need a responsible person 2 supervise the little ones during dinner." I rolled my eyez while saying "Sigh." Not actually sighing, mind U, just saying "sigh." Over her shoulder, while carrying the salad away 2 the big-ppl's table, Dee was like, "U'll B away from the adults and adult conversation, I'm afraid. Do U mind?" I gave her a dead-eyed look an' sed, "I guess not." Then, after Dee had left the kitchen, sum1 in the next room was all, "YACK-YACK-YACK-GABBLE, YAP-YAK-GABBLE, YAP, YAK, YACK-YA, YAP, YACK, GAB," and insteada thinking "What the eff!" I thought, "Bonus!" While serving dinner 2 the littles, like I was their waitress.

Oh, and 4 sum reason, Robin @ age 3 yrs, almost two months, is so stunted he still needs a booster seat, which he was seated in @ the head of the table (being a male Patterson an' all), while Françoise, who is four months an' six days younger than Robin, is Merrie's size and was sitting next 2 Merrie. What the heck? And no, I M not accepting the theory that Francie's age is adjusted. She will be three on March 7, 2008.

She will be three on March 7, 2008.

She will be three on March 7, 2008.

She will be three on March 7, 2008.

She will be three on March 7, 2008.

She will be three on March 7, 2008.

She will be three on March 7, 2008.

Sorry 4 all the repetition, I want 2 try 2 get the message out there 2 NE crazy 60-yo storytelling women out there who mite B trying 2 control our story arcs.

Apes

P.S. And don't worry, I will B billing Dee 4 my babysitting. As a holiday gift, I will waive my "short notice/no notice" surcharge.

2 Sleeps 2 Xmas

Mike has sum more stuff 2 share abt life in the ol' Pattermanse:

April,

Formerly little sis. There’s a time in every parent’s life, when he realizes that his little children have passed the point of being obsessive-compulsive about something and have simply turned the corner on full-fledged insanity. When that time comes, the only thing a parent can do is deal with his children’s obsessions and hope that some day they will be old enough to be put in some kind of institution made for those kinds of things.

Such was the situation today. I was busy working on my second novel Breaking the Windjammer, when I became aware of an altercation brewing in the house. Naturally, since I was busy at work, I ignored it.

I could hear my children lying on the floor beside the Christmas tree, muttering to themselves about how they were so anxious about Christmas they were going to lie next to the tree and stare intently at the Christmas tree skirt until presents appeared there. This is a technique I have not tried myself; but I doubted it would be successful.

Then I heard my son crawling around in the fireplace looking up the chimney for Santa, showing that our protective, free-standing,yellow, hover pole we purchased to keep the kids out of the fireplace was not a very good investment. However, I still think it works as a decorative curiosity, with its lack of visible support. It is certainly better than the investment of having completely rebricked the fireplace with multi-coloured bricks since last year.

Then I heard the kids say, “Gotta move chesterfield back by tree. Momma coming.” Then “Wait, it’s just that rabbit.” Then “What rabbit?” Then “Auntie April’s rabbit over there.” Then “That’s not a rabbit. Rabbit have sticky-up ears.” Then “No, momma says it’s a rabbit.” Then “Merrie. How you do that?” Then “What?” Then “Bend legs like that?” Then “What?” Then “One behind you. One in front.” Then “Shush! You’ll make my boyfriend mad.” Then “No. Merrie. Tree not boyfriend.” Then “Yes he is. I call him Leafy. He puts his branch on me to touch my special places.” Then “No Merrie. No put Leafy on your chest. It wrong.” Then “Leafy is my childhood sweetheart. I gonna marry Leafy.” Then “What momma say if she see you?” Then “Momma!!! Leafy was…” Then “Merrie wants to know when Santa here. She not in love with tree. Just Santa.”

Then I heard my wife, the lovely Deanna say, “Guys, …it’s another two sleeps before Santa comes.” Then I heard my son say, “Anover two sleeps?!!!” Then I heard my daughter whisper, “Does she mean naptimes or just nighttimes?” Then, “I dunno. Momma is weird.” Then “It a trick. Like last year. They say, ‘All presents burned. Sorry’.” Then “We gotta stop her.”

Then I heard my daughter say, “But…that’s so LONG!!” Then I heard my son say, “We want Santa to come NOW!” Then I heard some running and my children saying, “Get her! No escape!” And then there was some screaming.

Then after that, my wife, the lovely Deanna, brought the kids into where I was working and said, “Honey, would you do something with the kids, please?” I said, “Sure thing!” Then I said, “Cheeze, honey. Why are you leaning over to your left like some one did something to your left leg?” Deanna said, “Don’t ask.” But as I was putting their little coats on the children in complete darkness (darn instantaneous silhouettes), I could tell Deanna was thinking, “Great!—They need to get their minds off Christmas!”

Using my extra sensitive husband senses, I realized what Deanna wanted me to do. The best way to get children’s minds off Christmas is old-fashioned good parenting. I would take the kids to a toy store and let them stand outside and look at the window display, but not let them go in until they eventually get tired of Christmas and begged me to go someplace warm. Anthony Caine told me he did this so often with his half-Quebecoise daughter, that when they go to look at displays at toy stores she doesn’t even look at them. Trust Anthony to come up with a new way to teach children. That’s why he is the “idea man” at Mayes Midtown Motors. He was right once again. After a few hours in front of that display, and a few tears about wanting to go someplace warm, my children learned to get their minds off Christmas. Thank you, Anthony Caine!

Love,

Michael Patterson

Mike, following Anthony's parenting xxample is a perfect recipe 4 permanently damaging yr kids so they end up living in a psychiatric ward w/padded walls. But based on yr opening paragraph, it soundz like U R assuming that is where they will end up. So sad.

Apes

Merry Christmas

Hey, so every1's in the house, and we're all saying this fire stuff happed on Xmas eve, even tho Mike's been telling abt it way, way longer. Time is weird in Mboro, eh?

I cdn't help hearing the convo Mom and Dee had in the wee hrs as they and Dad settled Robin and Merrie in2 the sofa bed. I guess the stuff Mike told us abt in yesterday's blog entry happed in that same diff continuity where Liz was transported 2 Paul during the Labour Day weekend.

So, the convo I heard. Dee was all, "The fire started in the apartment downstairz. Mr. Kelpfroth was smoking in bed.... He'd turned off the smoke alarm so the landlady wdn't find out. By the time our alarms went off, the fire was out of control. I took the kids down the fire escape. Michael ran up to the attic to get his book. The firemen got him just in time. He had 2 B checked 4 smoke inhalation... I picked him up @ the hospital... And we all came here." Mom went, "So every1's safe and sound." And Dee was like, "Yes!" Mom hugged her an' sed, "Merry Xmas!" while Dad, I think, put a hand on one of Dee's hands. Or forearms. Not sure which.

NEway, Zeremy, sorry I wasn't able 2 make it 2 that party. I tried 2 sneak out last nite, but Mom was all, "Hey! This is a time 4 family 2getherness! Get yr Patterson butt back in here!"

Well, Merry Xmas 2 all of ya that celebr8 it!

Apes

Sundays are different

Mike did one of his l8-nite posts:

At 3:23 AM, michael patterson said…

April,

Little sis. Sundays for our family are a marvelous time. Everything seems more colourful. A lot of the time during the week, our life seems to go by so quickly there is barely enough time to set up a decent pun. But on Sundays there seems to be so much time to enjoy life, you wonder if it wouldn’t be better off to be just a little shorter or to have more things to do to fill the time. Certainly that is true this Sunday.

I know today is Christmas Eve, and Christmas Eve night is the night when Santa will come, but for some reason, I had this feeling that the whole story of what happened to our family with our apartment burning happened on Christmas Eve night. In fact, that feeling is so strong, I think when I write my monthly letter for January, that’s the way I will tell it, that the fire happened on Christmas Eve night, maybe even with an Ebenezer Scrooge reference. It’s always good to throw in a reference to classic literature, particularly if it comes from an English author. That would make the story so much more poignant. I wonder if I can get everyone to go along with that this coming week as we deal with the aftermath of the fire. It would mean everyone would have to ignore my family’s history of traveling to Milborough and spending the night at mom’s for every Christmas since Christmas 2003, but I think our family is up to it. What do you think?

In any case, my daughter decided to get into the spirit of setting other days as Christmas Eve and she decided that the night before Christmas Eve was the night Santa Claus was going to come. Apparently she woke in the middle of the night, from where she was sleeping on the day bed in mom’s sewing room, beside the crib mom borrowed for Robin to sleep in. She might have gotten confused about what night it was, or she may simply have been creeped out by that extraordinarily repulsive, substitute doll, mom found for her to sleep with. Even Ned Tanner looks good compared to that ugly thing.

When I found my daughter on the floor, she was wearing a nice, polka-dotted red night gown, we got from the collection for kids’ clothes Deanna got from her co-workers. It was nicer than what my daughter normally wears to bed, so I have no reason to complain. As near as I can tell from the evidence, my daughter must have gone out of the sewing room, stealthily crept to and down the stairs and sequestered herself in a hiding place where she could view the Christmas tree and the chimney. Apparently my daughter was trying to catch Saint Nick in the act. I spoke to her as I was carrying her upstairs, and she said, “Daddy. It was sooo boring. I waited a long time. I looked away from the tree, but in secret looking at tree, in case Santa showed up. Then I fell asleep.”

The reason I was up in the middle of the night, was I woke up to check on the children, because I am a good father. Oh, alright. I was really up in the middle of the night to sneak some chocolate fudge before mom could eat it all. That’s when I found my daughter asleep on the floor. I picked her up to take her back to bed. As I was carrying her she said, “Daddy. I had a dream I took Robin to the Christmas tree and there were all these presents there – a tricycle, a live monkey, a wind-up Frosty the Snowman, a wrapped bottle of happy juice for Auntie Liz, and a lot of other presents wrapped up and all over the floor. I could tell it was a dream, Daddy. Because the presents were every one wrapped in different wrapping paper, like someone used a new roll of paper for every present. Then I said to Robin, ‘They’re right, Robin. …Santa comes when you’re sleeping’.” I said to her, “Maybe you can do that on Christmas Day and pretend you were sleeping on the floor tonight on Christmas Eve night.” My daughter said, “Maybe. Why are Sundays so different, daddy?” I said, “I will tell you what my father told me in this very same house, when I asked him the very same question---Six weeks dailies, eight weeks Sundays.” My daughter nodded her head sleepily, no doubt dreaming of a happier time when people planned 8 weeks in advance, so things didn’t seem so different on Sundays.

Love,
Michael Patterson

I know what he meanz abt Sundayz being diff. It's like U can have zits all week, have clear skin on Sunday, go back to having the zits on Monday, and then finally still have zits the following Sunday. So weird at times.