She’d sent screaming flying monkey slingshots for Christmas.
You put your fingers in their mittens, pull back their body on their stretchy little arms and let the monkey fly…
When the monkey reaches its destination...it screams…. like a monkey.
Imagine twenty screaming monkeys being slingshot across the living room. There were a couple minor injuries to boy parts. My brother has his own high-pitched scream. My brother-in-law barricaded himself behind presents to prevent monkey damage.
We repeated inappropriate monkey sayings and jokes.
I laughed and laughed. My sister got a migraine.
My mother confiscated the monkeys.
That woman is a saint.
So, perhaps now I will go on to facebook to post pictures of the Weaver family Christmas…
Beautiful daughter and Beautiful sister. Cousins giggling together. A baby and a brother taking a nap. Presents. A walk in the woods with my sister. The kids on the sledding hill. Brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews. My sister sang a Christmas song. There were beautiful handmade wool mittens. My mom prepared a fabulous meal. Another perfect proper Christmas.
I love this family… just enough dysfunction to be fun and I loved The Christmas of Screaming Monkey Slingshots. Everyone agreed it was better than the Christmas of the Repeating Parrots. And even though she had to confiscate the monkeys, I think my mom preferred the monkeys to the Christmas of Glitter… she still seems a bit annoyed with that one as she pointed out some glitter on the wall. I know Jay enjoyed the monkey Christmas more than the Trip to the ER Christmas (thank you girls for not building a huge ice jump on the sledding hill this year – fun for kids but lethal for adults!)
Merry Christmas 2012.