I was having a really bad day today. Keep in mind that my bad day does not compare to the bad days of many other people, I know this. I realize that saying I had a bad day when my day was perfectly fine makes me sound like a jerk, but when I get overwhelmed I just kind of shut down – or melt down – and right now I have a lot on my plate and not enough time to get it done. Plus, I have a zit in my nose.

By the time this evening arrived, I was nearing shut down mode. I was sitting with my head in my hands and the biggest decision that I could manage to contemplate was whether I should have rum and egg nog, wine and Zoloft, or just down a big container of Tums.

Until this showed up on Twitter (thanks Metalia, and I mean thanks in the way that I’m thankful for the pimple in my right nostril):

Tums it is!

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My son will be 11 in May. He is the oldest kid in his class and he still believes in Santa Claus.

Half of the reason for that is because he had a pretty lousy start to life, so giving him a little extra magic is the least we can do. The other half is because he is brutally honest and we don’t want him to ruin it for the kids in his class who are many months behind him in age. Trust me, if he knows, he’ll make sure everyone else knows too.

Because he’s been lying so much, I felt the need to play the Santa card. I mean, if your child still thinks a jolly elf slides down the chimney and eats a bunch of cookies then you might as well use it for your benefit. Another advantage is that you get to eat a plate of cookies and pretend you didn’t.

So the other day I said, “This lying has to stop. It’s ridiculous. Plus, Santa is coming soon and I know you want to be on the nice list.”

Then I realized that he’s probably just going to go ahead and eat the cookies himself on Christmas Eve, because he replied, “But, I was naughty last year and I still got presents!”

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