Well another Christmas has come and gone here at the Gathen residence and yet again my theory that those who celebrate Hanukkah (I believe it is those of the Jewish faith) have got the right idea. Now, admittedly my working knowledge of Judaism comes from Adam Sandler songs, a viewing of Fiddler on the Roof in 11th grade and getting to chapter 14 in Chaim Potok’s The Chosen, but let me just say that Christianity could learn a thing or two from the tradition of spreading out holiday gift giving over a well-paced 8 days versus cramming the entirety of it into a single holy day of snowflake wrapping paper, unnecessarily taped boxes, batteries not included, choking hazard, lead paint recall noise noise noise.
Our entire downstairs has become a tribute to good old fashion American gluttony and waste production; and because at 14 months old Adam is still in what pediatricians and infant experts (sometimes referred to as people without children) refer to as the Natural Disaster Stage we have been forced to move all gifts not intended for Adam to dry land (stacked on tables, balanced on counter tops, hidden behind a wall of sandbags piled in the foyer) in defense against his unforgiving flood of toddlerism.
Also, we have a 40 gallon garbage container outside our home; this is equivalent to the size of President Bush’s cowboy hats. Normally, we only fill it half-way each week before it’s rummaged through by paparazzi then picked up from our curb by a waste removal truck, but yesterday alone produced enough refuse to overflow it. Kathleen and I are considering asking Jack to stand on top of the bags to compress them and make room for more, but we think that there might be one of those insatiable slimy creatures that nearly eats Luke Skywalker in the trash compactor on the Death Star lurking in it. If I remember correctly it’s either called a Dianoga or George Lucas.
This doesn’t even take into account the precarious tower of flattened boxes and packaging in the dining room. We’re debating whether it will be easier to open our own cardboard recycling plant rather than breaking the boxes down and lugging them to the curb. Another option is to make furniture out of them.
Regrettably and mercifully, I must cut this post short to introduce our Redneck, White Trash, Blue Collar (can’t get more Patriotic than that) ancestry to Jack by bringing him to WWE Wrestling tonight. The pyrotechnics, fake blood and pulled punches begin at 7:30 but I understand there’s a “Make Your Own Misspelled Sign” Workshop starting at 6:30.
Nock’em Ded Undertacker!