Well, that got my attention ...

Outside the rain is falling and it's still dark . . . a perfect morning in which to sleep late.

But our little one has other plans when at 6:30 he trudges into our room and climbs into our bed. He rolls around. He climbs back and forth over my husband and me. He jumps up and down. We totally ignore him, we are that tired.

Then (are you ready for this?) he leans close to my face, pats my cheeks with both hands, and says very sweetly and matter of factly: You blithering idiot.

My eyes pop open. Did he just . . . ? Where did . . . ? Who taught . . . ? How? When?

Slowly a memory surfaces of Captain Hook calling Mr. Smee a "blithering idiot" in Disney's Peter Pan.

Oh. Well, then. I feel so much better. And even though I had in fact been blithering, I am no idiot. It's raining, it's dark, it's early . . . I roll over and go back to sleep.

Buon Natale a Tutti

A Merry and Blessed Christmas from our house to yours.

(and yes, Virginia, it does occasionally snow in Georgia.)

Opera in the Kitchen

Tomorrow is the day. The boys are home. Joe has the week off. And Nonna is beckoning us to her kitchen for our annual tradition of making homemade/handmade tortellini. E' un tradizione Italiano.

We make 500 of them...one at a time.

Why 500? Half we eat in a bechamel sauce on Christmas Eve, and the other half we eat in a delicious broth on Christmas Day. And, yes, they all get eaten.

Here's what they look like as they dry on the counter:

It looks like a lot of work, but it really only takes a few hours. The best part is that every year during this time my sons (and truthfully, my husband) get a lesson, compliments of Nonna, on a different opera.

My mother is from Verona, which hosts a huge opera season every summer in L'Arena (an open-air Roman colosseum) so she is well-versed on Puccini and Verdi.

L'Arena di Verona

So far, we've done Turandot,

Madame Butterfly,

and Romeo and Juliet (which takes place in Verona).

This year Nonna has planned Aida.

Let me tell you . . . opera is not boring. Oh, my sons could do without the "mushy stuff", but there are plenty of swordfights, suicides, murders, infidelities, betrayals, and deaths to thrill any boy.

Believe it or not, operas make good stories.

The only problem is when Nonna starts singing . . .

Note to self: "Tape" it easy

Today is the last day of school for my boys. In a panic, here is what I am doing before they are home for vacation: sorting, wrapping, tagging, and hiding.

And I'm on my last roll of scotch tape.

I have plenty of glue sticks, though. Think that will work?

Do You Hear What I Hear?

This Christmas cd is quickly becoming a family favorite...thanks, Lisa, for the suggestion.

The Gingerbread Man: not your usual bathroom humor

Yesterday I picked Timothy up from school and he told me that during activity time he had to put his flower in the weed bucket (a disciplinary chart: good behavior, flower in the basket; bad behavior, flower in the weed bucket).

Since this was his first time, I was very curious as to what he did.

Evidently he and two friends were saying "poopy words".

Upon further questioning it seems that at the time they had been making gingerbread...with each child given a chunk of brown, lumpy dough.

Hmmm...

And I'm thinking: if you give a boy something brown and lumpy, it's just a matter of time before the "poopy words" begin.

A Little Christmas Cheer

don't you just love his expression...

(This one is for suburbancorrespondent who
has been having some Christmas/Chanukah woes.)