I am ancient

Sonny Boy had his last choral concert last night at the middle school. (That, in and of itself, is quite an entertaining story.) On the way home, we were discussing "the one hot girl in the school who is really nice." I finally figured out who she was last night.

"You know honey, you can always talk to me about any girl."

Big time eye roll.

"I'm serious. That's what moms are for."

Even bigger eye roll. "I'll talk to Dad. Not you!"

"Honey, it's great you want to talk with dad, but if you ever need a female perspective, remember that I work with teenage girls. And I was a teenage girl one time."

"Mom - that was last century!"

Technically, he's right.

Breaking the Christmas Code

One of my childhood Christmas memories is the way my Mom would label Christmas gifts. Presents would be wrapped under a tree with a series of odd letters on them. For instance, a package of purple socks might have been wrapped for me with the label "BDOFCIPAIKIYFCT." These letters would stand for "Because Donny Osmond's favorite color is purple and I know it's your favorite color too." That way Mom knew the present was for me and not for my brother - even though Jerry and I had no clue whatsoever. Pretty good.

I have continued the tradition with my own twist. I usually put one word that reminds me of that particular child. One present under our tree is labeled "TIGHT" because Sonny Boy's wrestling uniform is tight. Another is labeled "RED" because Princess' Chinese name before she came home with us meant red, hot, popular. (Yes, we did choose a different Chinese name, because who wants a teenage daughter one day whose name means red, hot and popular?)

Princess started getting into making and wrapping presents last year. She decided to try her own codes. Well, this year she has trumped both Mom and me. She has been taking Chinese language all semester and her labels are written in Chinese characters. I only hope the package that smells like chocolate is for me.