If there's gonna be any shootin' ...

I'd best be gettin' my sleep.

Three months after he received the cowboy hat as a gift from Aunty Amy, he develops an interest in wearing it. But ONLY while we read bedtime stories.

Preferences.

Tonight I actually said, "If you don't get in that bed then I'm gonna go jump in the lake." And he replied, "Mama go jump in that lake. It's code (cold)." And then he said, "More green toothpaste pease."

It's the preferences that get me.

Today it was 25 degrees after he woke up from his nap and the only thing I could think of to do was go to Target. So off we went. Two hours we were there. We stuck to my schedule: "First we have to shop and you can drink strawberry milk (Horizon Organic -- there's a Starbucks @ Target), then we can go look at toys."

"I look at toe-ees. Toe-eees. Go go Mama."

I always spend $80 at Target. No matter what, I spend $80. Which is why I am only allowed to go there once in a while.

And so while he was there, I made a mental to-do list, which went something like this:

• Make a computer database of family/friends names/addresses so it won't be necessary to address holiday cards by hand anymore.
• Take The Goose to a soup kitchen to give him the gift of Perspective.
• Buy at least one Christmas gift before December 15.
• Remember to comment on Nujhat Jabeen's argumentative research paper about WHY PARENTS SHOULD NEVER SPANK THEIR CHILDREN.
• Research "herbal cures for eczema" on the Internet.

Meanwhile, The Goose entertained himself by checking out every tractor, dump truck, bulldozer, and steam engine. He also ate goldfish crackers out of someone else's cart while I was trying to decide whether 1% hydrocortisone is too much for a toddler's eczema problem. Wouldn't .5% be better? Yes, but they don't carry it anymore.

"Look it, Mama. A godefish."

"What goldfish?"

"It's right here."

Right here in this cart beside the nice mom of five children including two-year old twins and a pre-teen wearing a spiked dog collar. Just when you need to feel better about your life, the good Lord provides.

I made him say "thank you" -- what else can you do? Thief.

Actually, that comment about wanting to jump in the lake had nothing to do with today's thievery, cowboy hat preferences, the green toothpaste incident, or the insistence upon reading Dump It by Darice Bailer (starring Dave the foreman of a dump truck crew) fourteen times in a row. It was because half of my life I spend trying to figure out who I should be mad at: the rest of the world, or myself.

He's had a runny nose for the past coupla days. So, in order to prevent the clear stream from turning yellow-green, I douse him with "Little Noses" saline spray before naps and bedtime and then suction it out with a nasal aspirator. He hates this process, and gets back at me by making a habit of -- on his way to bed -- finding the USED nasal aspirator on the bedside table ...

WARNING: If you have a thing about snot or germs, skip down a coupla paragraphs.

... putting it in his mouth and sucking on it. Every time. WHY CAN'T I JUST REMEMBER TO PUT IT OUT OF HIS REACH?

So then I'm all in a tizzy, running around saying, "Don't put it in your mouth!!! It's NASTY!!!!!"

"Is nah-uh-stee," he mimics.

I give up.

And one more relatively positive, holidayish thing before I give up on this night. I LOVE this Santa Claus thing. It is the world's best threat. So whenever I get a glimpse of even the Prelude to a Misbehavior Sonata, I whip out the Santa Claus speech. Brilliant. Works every time.

And the best part about it all is that this is what he would tell you about S.C.:

"Come down a chimmey. Bring chock-it (chocolate)."

Sweet! Chocolate is SO much cheaper than TMX Elmo.