I went with the Marmot Family to sing Christmas carols and eat Turkish Delight at my sister's friend's home tonight. It's been quite a while since I rode anywhere with the entire Marmot Family. When there were only the two girls, I used to sit in the back seat of the Marmot Sedan with them in their car seats. At Christmas Madame the Elder and I would sing “Santa Baby” and during the rest of the year we would sing “I Got You, Babe” and then I would tell her every five minutes to get her foot out of Madame the Younger's face Right. Now. And then we would make animal sounds for a while and then Madame would fall asleep. It was good times in the back of the car.
Now there are four children and four car seats, and I ride in the Marmot Van between the Madames in their nice big tall seats. It's a little bit of a tight fit back there and the possibility that I'll lose the feeling in my shoulders during the course of the ride is very high. Tonight Marmot Babe was in the seat in front of me, facing me, screaming. He was full of wrath to be strapped down. His sisters sang him some Christmas carols at top volume, which, not surprisingly, did not soothe his troubled soul. When not singing, Madame 4-year-old was on my right, showing me the stash of plastic jewels that she keeps next to her seat in case she needs to accessorize on the way to the grocery store and Madame 6-year-old was on my left, quizzing me about why the father on the cover of A Christmas Story is holding a leg and conjecturing that it was his wife's leg that he had cut off. Now that would be a very interesting Christmas story indeed.
On the way home we saw an inflatable snowman in a camo vest holding a giant inflatable rifle.
Ah, sweet Christmas times.
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