A Yuletide potpourri

by Darryl Wilkinson
You busy this Yuletide season? Me, too. So, this is a collection of random thoughts and notes collected for no particular purpose. Most involve the grandkids. I can’t claim all that follows to be original (and even when so, much embellishment naturally occurs … literary license, you know). These tidbits are shared here just for grins, best read with more than a little eggnog:
My son met his fiancé on the internet, but my 6-year-old grandson isn’t about to be outdone. Bored while standing in line, he blurted out: “Who wants to be my girlfriend?” When two likewise bored little girls raised their hands, he later told his mom he just picked the one he liked best and away they went. (Epilogue: two days later, he was a bachelor again)
Here’s a shockingly true yuletide story: The Tennessee Aquarium in Chattanooga is using a novel way to cut back on its electric bill this year. They’ve hooked up their Christmas tree to an eel. The guy in charge of the aquarium’s audio visual needs, Joey Turnipseed, explains: “Whenever Miguel (that’s the eel’s name) discharges electricity, sensors in the water deliver the charge to a set of speakers. The speakers convert the discharge into the sound you hear and the festively flashing lights.”
A roller skating party was part of the celebration for my 7-year-old granddaughter last Saturday at Cameron. The oldsters began reminiscing about old-fashioned fun — ice skating outdoors on the pond, soft landings in snowdrifts falling out of swings, and snow sleds tethered to a long rope pulled behind a tractor. One little guy turned wide-eyed, taking this all in, before muttering, “I sure wish I’d gotten to know you sooner!”
My daughter is expecting a third child come February and it’s physically obvious. With so many nieces and nephews taking notice, sometimes the questions can put you on edge. I read where a second grader once came home from school and opened the conversation by saying, “We learned how to make babies today.” After recovering from a bit of surprise, the reply was an unsteady, “Well, that’s interesting …how do you make babies?” Without any hesitation, the youngster said, “It’s simple. You just change ‘y’ to ‘i’ and add ‘es’.”
Worried about overeating this holiday season? What this country needs is more truth in labeling. For instance, if you take a break from shopping at some fried chicken fast food joint, the label on the bucket should read: “If your gut sticks out so far that you can’t hold this bucket of thighs and wings close enough to read the label, then move along, Santa wannabe …you shouldn’t be eating this.”
We thought decorating our house for Christmas would be a great way to entertain and involve our eight grandchildren. Wrong, again. After fighting over whose turn it was to pump the player piano, the fight shifted across the room to who was next to pound away at grandpa’s word processor. Once the little girl got behind the keyboard, she held her post by diligently pounding away for quite a long time. She said she was writing a story. “What’s it about?” …to which she replied, “I don’t know. I can’t read.”
Overheard at the shopping mall between what had to be a husband and wife: “There’s not a dime’s difference between us in the money we spend. The only distinction is the way we spend it. I think about it, and you don’t.”
Help me if you can. The countdown to Christmas Eve is just seven days and I’ve yet to get a present for my better half. I’ve been asking around. All the other husbands at the Christmas parties so far offer their condolences (they’re right there with me, rowing upstream in the same boat without a paddle). I guess after so many years us guys try to get by with “It’s the thought that counts” without counting the lack of thought (seven more days – take heart, men; seven more days).
Evidently, there was a big confrontation between two sisters over what constitutes the color of red last week. So, when coloring in the coloring book, I began pointing out something and asking what color it was. She would tell me and was always correct. At last, she tired and headed out the door, saying, “Pops … I really think you should try to figure out these colors yourself!”
So maybe another coloring book isn’t the best Christmas gift this year. It’s hard for grandparents to get just the right gift for each grandchild, isn’t it? On the other hand, and for the record, I can’t remember a single thing my own grandma or pa ever gave to me for Christmas … but their love.
That’s what makes Christmas the very best. Merry Christmas!