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a new santa

good freaking heavens.

my assistant has gone over the bend. over the fucking moon. i love his thoughtfulness and generosity -- but he is spoiling my boy. absolutely spoiling him. he bought him THREE birthday presents. big ones. right now, in my possession, i have two very large gift-wrapped boxes. the third, i have been told, is still being "tested." hmm. is that the official term for playing with a gift before bestowing it upon its intended recipient?

i know that we have bought paul quite a few toys (and lately he's bought quite a few for himself), but we've been seriously talking about cutting back and purging because, let's face it, he has become the stereotypical kid with a fully-stocked toy store of his own.

my assistant is just in love with the idea of paul embracing his boyness (was i trying to raise him as neuter?) and needing a boy's toys. i know one of these gifts is a giant excavator, and from what he's saying to me, i believe the other two gifts are construction toys, too. i think the fool has gone and bought my son a veritable crew.

my wife was all, "why did you even get that one? this is 3 and up, but that one is 5 and up."
i said, "well, he said he wanted an excavator."
she said, "he said what?"
"he wanted an excavator."
"well, i had a pretty big vocabulary at that age, but i don't think i knew that word back then."
"that's right. so if he says he wants an excavator, he should have one!"

now, that's all well and good -- but when i was that age, i told my mom to run away with the amway salesguy, but that doesn't mean that it was something that should have happened just because i was precocious enough to say so. (and man, thank goodness it didn't happen.)



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