My Number Two Son has just gone to the airport to pick up his big brother, who's flying in from Chicago, along with his track bike. ("Mom, I can't go ten whole days without riding!" Uh, I believe we have a garage full of bikes. "But I need my own bike." Have you noticed that it's snowing? "So what? I can still ride." Whatever. Please remind your brother to swing by Starbucks on your way home from the airport.)
The other kid wants to go climbing in Alabama the week after Christmas with a bunch of people I don't know. ("Don't worry, Mom. We're just going bouldering. We'll use crash pads and I'll never be more than twenty feet off the ground." Excuse me, but I'm pretty sure you can break your neck falling from a height of twenty feet. "Aw, Mom. You know how good I am. And aren't you glad I'm addicted to climbing and not cocaine?" Well, yes. Even though I suspect a coke habit would be cheaper than buying all this climbing equipment and paying for the gym memberships and travel.)
Between Bike Boy ("If you're not crashing, you're not riding fast enough!") and Mountain Man ("...so I just took a leap of faith and I actually made it!"), it's a wonder I have any nerves left. But in a little while I'll sit at the kitchen table and slurp down my cafe latte and try to get the guys to forget fast bikes and giant boulders long enough to map out our Christmas plans.
One of the things on our list is to drive out to the country and tramp through the snow and cut our own Christmas tree. Then after the hot chocolate is drunk and we've played all of our favorite Christmas CDs, we'll finish the decorating job by hanging these candy canes on our tree.
I won't be blogging tomorrow, so here's something to keep you all busy until I come back on Monday: Go to this site and design your very own "paper" snowflake.
Everyone have a safe and happy weekend.