Calli, I hope the rest does your ankle good. And yes, I am back in NC. Got back Sunday, took Monday off.

Please keep us posted on your BiL.

Can't read the whitefont on my iPhone, so I can only imagine...

Stephanie, I think we talked about it here because Emmett was such a late believer about Santa. I think he was in sixth grade, 11 y.o. when he found out. And I think I pushed it there because I felt it might be socially fatally to enter Middle School still believing in Santa Claus.

I think like Mumps it's better to get it out of the way early as Ellie did.

Matilda is in full on Santa mode, though. Then again, she doesn't have a lot of distance from what she's watching on TV and when she gets anxious about a thrilling plot turn she will frequently turn to me and say, "Daddy, I think you should help Skraat now" before Skaraat gets smooshed between two glaciers.

Anyway, I have done my best to foment this lie by buying her the one present she was certain that Santa would bring her for Christmas this year.

Yikes, Jessica. That's, um, creative.

Fingers crossed for exhibiting, Katerina. How exciting!

{{Everyone who is numb or recuperating or injured or otherwise would benefit from hugs}}

I grew up getting "Santa" presents from my Catholic grandparents, but being raised Jewish, it never meant much more to me than a fun way to get extra presents. And I picked up pretty fast that Santa had the same handwriting as my Nana.

We also got Christmas presents on that side of the family from Golo (Grandaddy's giant) and Sven & Olaf (Golo's friends the Norweigen rats), who were and are all much more real to me than Santa ever was.

They changed my hours at work last week because they are so short handed. Instead of 11am - 7:30 pm, and missing all the peak traffic times, I am working 10am - 6:30 pm And having to pay attention to the hours of the new "MNPass" carpool-or-pay-or-be-fined lanes.

Blecch.

ION? I got home at 7:30 pm for the first time in almost 4 years tonight.

Oh and I just ate Andi's fresh sweet potato pie and the rest of the cool whip because I tested my glucose and it was 69...a half hour before I remembered to eat something. oops.

Waiting for pie and cool whip to hit my bloodstream, and thinking of a few potato chips to hurry it along.

I liked thinking of Santa as a benign fiction we older kids could maintain for the little ones, in the name of fun and games. I felt very grown up about that. Of course, I steadfastly ignored the part about how I knew Santa was actually my parents on purpose for a few years. I blame my little sister, because we had so much fun going out on Christmas Eve, looking up in the sky to spot Rudolph's glowing red nose.

Sweet potato pie: (Homer Simpson noise).

Goodnight everyone.

I will note that while Emmett was pretty upset to discover the truth about Santa, he got over it quickly, recently announced that Christmas is his favorite time of year, and he seems to be eager to stoke Matilda's holiday excitement to a manic pitch.

I'm pretty sure I've shared this story here before. As a kid, I was told that it wasn't fair to tell other kids the truth about Santa -- Santa was fun for them, and telling them would be spoiling their fun. I violated this rule exactly once, in second grade. A kid asked me what I wanted Santa to bring me. I said, "Santa doesn't visit my house. Santa visits houses that celebrate Christmas." He said, "No, Santa visits every good boy and girl. If he's not coming to your house, you must have been bad." I said, "Santa goes to houses that celebrate Christmas. We don't celebrate Christmas, so Santa never comes to our house." He said, "Santa never comes to your house? You must have been really, really bad." I gave up and said, "There is no Santa! Your mom and dad bring those presents!" And he burst into tears.

That kid was begging for it, Hil. Too bad his folks didn't give him the idea that not all people celebrate Christmas. I've told Liv that her bff doesn't celebrate Christmas. She seems to get it.

My parents were big on Santa. There was separate Santa wrapping paper, always crumbs of cookies and just a smidge of milk left. I remember kinda getting that Santa couldn't be real but trying to work out how parents figured out what you wanted. I was thinking maybe there was some way when you sat on Santa's Lap and told him stuff and got your picture taken they also told your parents.

A little health update. I got my results from my ultrasounds - they are clear and show nothing.

Which is frustrating because I was in the worst pain I've had yet last night. So now I'm going to get a CT Scan on Thursday.

I really really hope somethign shows up.