Christmas was a nice blend of commercialism, poignancy, and awkwardness. As it should be, I imagine. More on that later.
Andrew was swimming in toys. It was really shocking how many new toys this kid got. 95% of them beep or light up or vocally demand attention from you.
The only non-makes-me-want-to-garrote-myself noisemaker was a Woody doll from Toy Story. You pull the string coming out of his back and he says “Thar’s a snake in mah boots.” Heh.
My house now contains the ENTIRE Power Ranger collection of action figures and their associated mega swords and shadow sabers and shit, amounting to about twenty figurines of varying plasticized whoop-assiness.
It just so happened, however, that Andrew was upstairs with nary a Ranger and needing distraction. I quickly glanced across my desk and my eyes rested on my Buddy Jesus figurine. “Here, Andrew. Play with Jesus.”
Andrew, noticing that Jesus had his hand in a pointing gesture, interpreted it as a gun, and he flew Jesus around the room with a SSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOMMM and a WWHOOOOOOOSSSSSSHHHH and shot at invisible enemies with a PEW! PEW! PEW!
It was fabulous. It was totally Ezekiel 25:17 (as misquoted by Jules in Pulp Fiction):
And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee. Posted by Jen at December 27, 2005 8:51 AM
