I spent the better part of last evening, wrapping presents and watching Transformers with KShaf. When Princess A stumbled out from her bedroom this morning, she said, "Mommy! Santa came!" I had to break it to her that, no, Santa had not come, but that Mom has no place to stash all of the wrapped presents, so she had to put them under the tree. None of them are hers, don't worry. I'm not that much of a Grinch!
Also, in case you ever need to know, when your 5 year-old attempts to "warm up" her brother's oatmeal in the microwave, it's best to have a fire extinguisher handy. It was really hard to get angry at her, though. She said (with all the sweet innocence of a 5 year-old), "But, Mommy, I was just trying to help." This from the same child, however, who managed to spill (what seemed like) a 5,000 pound bottle of silver glitter all over the house yesterday morning. Again, it's really tough to get mad at her when she says, "Mommy, I just wanted to make you and Daddy a Christmas picture." Siiiiigh. Between the burned oatmeal smell and the carpets covered with glitter, I've decided to just give up on cleaning. What's the point?