Parenting 101: The Adventures of Happy Candy-Lips
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07-12-2015, 03:57 PM
Parenting 101: The Adventures of Happy Candy-Lips
In the spirit of the holiday season, I present one of my favorite stories from my journal. This one is from 5 Christmas' ago when my girls still believed in Santa. Number One was 7, Number Two was 4. For the record, there are multiple parenting fails contained within this story. Feel free to point them out and discuss. I could have recorded the "what I should have done" versions of these stories, but I prefer the true story with warts and all... Enjoy!

====================

"The Elf on the Shelf is watching you..." Our elf was delivered last year as a gift to my girls from my sister. Of course, the first task was to name him so that he could receive his Christmas magic. I naively granted all creative rights for the naming to my two little girls. After much consideration, they settled on a nice, traditional name: Happy Candy-Lips. The girls also insisted that Happy Candy-Lips must always be referred to by her full name. That's right, even though the elf is clearly of the male persuasion, if a little feminine in the face, our girls are convinced he is a she. But, alas, the girls have fallen completely in love with our elf and The Wife and I must humor this new "tradition". So, our house is now under the constant surveillance of a little trans-gendered elf named Happy Candy-Lips.

Somehow the idea of a little elf coming to life each night and hiding herself among the knick-knacks and what-nots of my bookshelves to spy for Santa seems a little unnerving to me. When it was just good ole Saint Nick keeping his list and watching from afar, it didn't bother me. But this was going too far.

This year, Happy Candy-Lips returned just after Thanksgiving. Her rosy cheeks and creepy sideways stare appear in random locations each and every morning. The girls wake up each and every day to search for Happy Candy-Lips with unflagging enthusiasm. But, there is one member of our family who has not completely bought into this new tradition. I guess it was the elf busting him to the naughty list for sneaking a drink of hot chocolate from an unattended cup on the coffee table. But whatever the reason, Beethoven the dog decided to take matters into his own paws.

One Friday night, all was quiet in our household when suddenly the grief stricken screams of murder filled the air and all heck broke loose. Apparently, while the girls were playing in one girl's room, Happy Candy-Lips had been left unattended on the bed of the other. Beethoven sensed the opportunity and seized the moment. It took only a minute for Happy Candy-Lips to have one arm, the other hand and part of his head amputated. After the operation, Beethoven proudly delivered the stricken elf into the lap of Number One, our seven year-old. She, of course, reacted as if a real-life family member's severed head had just been laid in her lap.

Number One screamed for revenge. Hearing the commotion from the other side of the house, I screamed for more information. Number Two, not knowing what exactly was going on, just screamed. Beethoven bolted for the door. After seeing the damage and observing the distress in my little girl's face, I started screaming for Beethoven to present himself for punishment. Not surprisingly, Beethoven knew better than to comply. Instead he did his best impression of Scooby Doo while struggling to get traction on the hardwood floors. The chase ensued and after a several minutes of screaming and chasing a wild-eyed, panic stricken pooch through the house, we finally cornered and crated the perpetrator. Number Two, now having figured out what all the hooplah was about, began to wail in harmony to her sister's own sob filled dirge. I tried to reassure them that all was ok. I am a dad. I fix things. So I began on a wild hunt for a needle and red thread. Frantically, I searched the junk drawer and the cabinets. Only then did we realize that there were a couple of parts that were missing entirely. With the crying reaching a deafening crescendo, I began once more to scream; this time for help from The Wife.

Up until now, The Wife had been watching the whole ordeal unfold with that detached sense of calm and patience that only moms possess. Just as the cacophony began to reach its climax, she spoke, and the house fell silent. And it went something like this: "Never fear my dear children and my foolish, loud-mouthed husband. For I happen to know of a special Christmas magic. It is possessed only by Santa Claus, who just so happens to be at our mall this very evening. Rest easy, have some hot cocoa, and simply believe in the magic of Christmas." This last part was said with a flourish as she swung her purse over her shoulder and strolled confidently out the door. The rest of us just sat and stared at each other with our jaws dropped open.

About an hour later, The Wife strolled back in. She was cupping a handful of sparkly stuff which closely resembled body glitter but was really crystallized snowflakes direct from the North Pole. We were instructed to rub it onto the parts of our elf that were damaged and then sprinkle a bit over the rest of her, just for good measure. We solemnly laid Happy Candy-Lips out on the living room coffee table and did as we were told. Then we all had to go to bed quickly for the magic to work.

The excitement the next morning rivaled Christmas day itself. My two girls jumped into bed with Happy Candy-Lips all a-sparkle. But more importantly, the elf was good as new! Number One quickly pointed out with wonder that you couldn’t even see the stitches where she was sewed back together. And, she noted, her face was whiter, her hair darker and her clothes even redder than before the incident. But there was the sparkly magical snow still rubbed onto her head, shoulder and arm where it was put last night. At that moment, I saw that the magical sparkle of Christmas wonder had returned once again to my daughters’ eyes. And in The Wife’s eyes, I saw that other look; the one that says: “See, you idiot. THAT is how it is done.”

I just wanted to let you know that I love you even though you aren't naked right now. Heart
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07-12-2015, 05:50 PM (This post was last modified: 07-12-2015 06:15 PM by Anjele.)
RE: Parenting 101: The Adventures of Happy Candy-Lips
Great story and nicely told.

My older daughter was here yesterday and we were talking about the Elf on the Shelf thing. I said I was quite happy that she and my other kids are too old - I didn't have to do the whole Elf thing.

I have a similar story but didn't have the magic glitter to help me.

When my son was about 2 and his sisters were 7 and 11, my oldest had two parakeets. One morning after the girls were off to school, I checked the birds and found the blue parakeet laying on the bottom of his cage with his feet in the air - this is not a good sign. I removed the dead bird and cleaned the cage. Then I took my son and our dog for a walk in the woods across the street. While there I buried the bird.

We went back to our quarters and I told my son to leave his coat on as we were going to Walmart to buy a bird. He didn't talk much at that age. He looked at me and said, "Bye bye?" I said yes we would leave in a few minutes. I grabbed my purse and told him to come on. Again with, "Bye bye?" I said again that we were going to Walmart to buy a bird.

I had tried to look carefully at the bird so that I could try to match the color. We went to the store and came home with a new bird. I put it in the cage and we went on with our day.

A couple days passed and my daughter hadn't mentioned anything so I thought I had gotten away with the old switcheroo.

Then while in the kitchen cooking, about day three, older daughter came in and said that he wanted me to look at her bird because she thought something was wrong with it. I asked what it was doing - hoping I hadn't bought a faulty bird. She said the color didn't look right. I said that it had probably molted and it's feathers had come back a little different color. She gave me an -I am not so sure about that- look. But I said that I would come look at the bird in a few minutes.

From the floor, we heard my son's first sentence - "Go to Walmart; buy a bird." Blink

I needed more than magic glitter to recover from that. Facepalm

See here they are the bruises some were self-inflicted and some showed up along the way. - JF

We're all mad here. The Cheshire Cat

Are my Chakras on straight?
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07-12-2015, 06:05 PM
RE: Parenting 101: The Adventures of Happy Candy-Lips
We won't be doing the elf or Santa most likely, but cute story. Lol.
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08-12-2015, 05:59 AM
RE: Parenting 101: The Adventures of Happy Candy-Lips
(07-12-2015 05:50 PM)Anjele Wrote:  Great story and nicely told.

My older daughter was here yesterday and we were talking about the Elf on the Shelf thing. I said I was quite happy that she and my other kids are too old - I didn't have to do the whole Elf thing.

I have a similar story but didn't have the magic glitter to help me.

When my son was about 2 and his sisters were 7 and 11, my oldest had two parakeets. One morning after the girls were off to school, I checked the birds and found the blue parakeet laying on the bottom of his cage with his feet in the air - this is not a good sign. I removed the dead bird and cleaned the cage. Then I took my son and our dog for a walk in the woods across the street. While there I buried the bird.

We went back to our quarters and I told my son to leave his coat on as we were going to Walmart to buy a bird. He didn't talk much at that age. He looked at me and said, "Bye bye?" I said yes we would leave in a few minutes. I grabbed my purse and told him to come on. Again with, "Bye bye?" I said again that we were going to Walmart to buy a bird.

I had tried to look carefully at the bird so that I could try to match the color. We went to the store and came home with a new bird. I put it in the cage and we went on with our day.

A couple days passed and my daughter hadn't mentioned anything so I thought I had gotten away with the old switcheroo.

Then while in the kitchen cooking, about day three, older daughter came in and said that he wanted me to look at her bird because she thought something was wrong with it. I asked what it was doing - hoping I hadn't bought a faulty bird. She said the color didn't look right. I said that it had probably molted and it's feathers had come back a little different color. She gave me an -I am not so sure about that- look. But I said that I would come look at the bird in a few minutes.

From the floor, we heard my son's first sentence - "Go to Walmart; buy a bird." Blink

I needed more than magic glitter to recover from that. Facepalm

2 year-old heel turn




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