A Kimel Christmas

 

 

Sophie got some new Liv dolls for Christmas–that was the present she was probably the most excited about. Liv dolls are like larger, prettier Barbie dolls, and they come with an assortment of elaborate removable wigs. They’re glamorous, cool teenage dolls, so they have really cool, trendy clothes and cool, trendy wigs. Anyway, Sophie was really excited about her Liv dolls, and she sat on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, playing with them. Matt, Bun, and I were standing around kind of wondering what to do, and then Sophie’s mother called her into the kitchen–and we sprang into action.

 

Matt arranged three Liv dolls in the classic “see no evil, hear no evil, say no evil” pose. Then he grabbed a wig and put it on Jake’s new Darth Vader clock radio. Meanwhile, Bunny was fitting a wig on one of the weird animatronic teddy bears that Phil bought years ago and that Kris had posed in front of the Christmas tree. Well, let me be more specific. One of the weird animatronic teddy bears, dressed in calico and lace and standing on its hind legs, was holding a baby bear, and Bunny put a wig on the baby. I couldn’t stop laughing. The baby bear, a very serious little fellow, was wearing a long blonde curly wig, the sort of wig one might wear to a Renaissance festival.

 

When Sophie came back into the room, we tried to play it cool. I tried to control my giggles.

 

“What?” Sophie snapped–so suspicious. (She’s been dealing with us for years, after all.)

 

Then she saw her dolls in their see-hear-say-no-evil pose. She rushed to them. “You dorks!” she cried, un-posing them. “Don’t touch my stuff!”

 

We stood around giggling and giving her insincere apologies.

 

“Where are their wigs?” Sophie demanded. She was not laughing.

 

“I have no idea,” Matt said, shrugging.

 

Then Sophie saw the clock radio. She grabbed the wig. Then she spied the baby bear. Her eyes were shooting daggers at us. She snatched that wig too.

 

“Oh, come on!” I said. “You’ve got to admit that was awesome! That baby bear looked awesome in his blonde wig!” (It was a sort of medieval princess wig, I guess you’d say.)

 

Sophie soon made the mistake of leaving the room again. (She is so foolish.)

When she returned, she looked around mistrustfully. This time, a stuffed cat pillow was wearing a wig. So was a pine-cone squirrel. And a glass blowfish.

 

“You losers!” Sophie cried. She snatched up all the wigs.

 

Sophie kept leaving the room, and we kept stealing her Liv Doll wigs and dressing stupid things in them. The whole cycle happened over and over again, until finally Sophie ended up under the sideboard in the dining room, fake crying.

 

“It’s not fake!” Sophie yelled. “I’m mad at you guys!”

 

Matt brought her a pillow, and she lay comfortably under the sideboard while her mother yelled at her (it was just play yelling) and told her to get outside and pose for a family picture.

 

Sophie refused to pose for pictures; she ended up pouting in her closet. And when Matt, Bun, and I followed her into her room, she opened the closet door a crack and pelted us with shoes.

 

Matt tried to apologize and take the blame for our shenanigans with the wigs: “I want you to know, Sophie, that these ladies had nothing to do with it . . . and that we’ll be moving your bed in front of the closet door now and thus enjoying the rest of our Christmas Day.”

 

Meanwhile, Bun and I were roaming around in Sophie’s room, dodging flying shoes and saying, quite insincerely, “Gee, I wonder what we did to offend our little friend. . . .”

 

Sophie did eventually forgive us. But Jake just ignored us the whole day; he was completely engrossed in Raving Rabbids Travel in Time, his gift from Uncle Jacob.

We went back over to Mom’s house for Christmas dinner. Our meal consisted of roasted vegetables, cranberry chutney, crescent rolls, and Christmas cookies. Jake didn’t want anybody else to touch the crescent rolls; crescent rolls were all he ate.

 

Oh, here’s something funny about Mom: About a week ago she was listening to the local news and she heard about this local Tallahassee guy, a Leon High alumnus, who’d invented this new hot sauce called Gunshot Sauce. Well, Mom was so excited and intrigued that she ran out immediately and bought some and served it at Christmas dinner.

 

“They say it makes everything taste better!” she enthused. “So everybody be sure and try some! I only bought a little bottle, but if you like it, I can always get more. Because you know I just love the idea of supporting somebody local! And I’m just sure Jacob probably knew the guy in high school!”

 

Mom was so excited about this magical Gunshot Sauce. And then . . . she tried some. Her face fell. “Oh, it’s just hot sauce,” she said. “Didn’t you picture something more since they said it made everything taste better?”

 

Kris smiled and shook her head: “No,” she said.

 

Mom is so cute. She is so often disappointed with things–because her dreams are so much greater and more wonderful than reality. At restaurants she is inevitably disappointed because the dishes she pictures in her mind’s eye are so much more amazing and delicious than the real ones she’s inevitably presented with.

 

It was so chilly and drizzly on Christmas afternoon, and we could hear gentle, far-off thunder as we ate.

 

“Who wants to push me on my swing?” Sophie asked. (She’s never interested in eating.)

 

“Not me!” I said. “I’m freezing!” (I’m always cold.)

 

“Bunny?” Sophie asked.

 

“Why don’t you talk to Aunt Leslie?” Bunny suggested.

 

“Leslie . . .” Sophie said. “Will you go outside with me?”

 

“Uh, no,” I said. “As you’ll recall, I was the original originator of not going outside. And I’m afraid I have to stand firm on this.”

 

During Christmas dinner Kris suggested that I bring “a sequined top” to wear on our upcoming trip to St. Augustine.

 

Well, Sophie chimed in: “Leslie doesn’t have a sequined top,” she said. Then: ” . . . Oh, yeah, she does.” She looked at me, brimming with sass: “Secondhand, right, and all torn up?”

 

“That’s right, Sophie,” I said. “I got it at Goodwill. Now, Sophie, you do know they have Goodwill gift cards now, right? I could get you one for your birthday.” (Sophie’s birthday is coming up: January 24.)

 

“No, Leslie,” Bunny said. “We can do better. We can take Sophie to Goodwill for her birthday outing.” (Bun and I always take Sophie shopping and to lunch on her birthday.)

 

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” I said. “We can go to all the Goodwills, every one in the entire town. We’ll spend the day!”

 

“It’ll be so awesome, Sophie,” Bun said. “We’ll have so much fun. Think about it this way: If we took you to Justice, we could only afford to buy you one outfit. But if we take you to Goodwill we can probably buy you three or four.”

 

“More is always better, right?” I said.

 

Sophie was rolling her eyes.

 

“We’d like to get you at least three complete looks,” Bunny said.

 

“Yes,” I said, “and by ‘complete’ we mean with hats and shoes. We know how fond you are of used shoes, Sophie. And other people’s hats.”

 

(Oh, I should have mentioned: Sophie is an extremely tidy, squeamish child. She washes her hands obsessively.)

 

“We hope you’ll model each outfit for us, Sophie,” Bunny said.

 

“Yes,” I said. “And I’ll take pictures and post them on my blog. Don’t let me forget my camera that day!”

 

Sophie stuck her tongue out at me then, and that was all the encouragement I needed: “We’ll go to all the Goodwills in the Tallahassee area, even the ones in Quincy and Monticello!” I said. “Then we’ll go straight to lunch without washing our hands.”

 

“Where should we go to lunch?” Bun wondered.

 

“Gosh, I don’t know,” I said. “All I know is we won’t be washing our hands before we eat!”

 

“How about the flea market,” Kris suggested.

 

“Oh, that’s perfect,” I said. “What should we get?”

 

“I don’t know about you,” Bunny said, “but I always like to get the nachos when I go to the flea market.”

 

“Oh, that’s great,” I said. “Especially when you haven’t washed your hands.”

 

“I think we should share the nachos,” Bunny said.

 

“Oh yes,” I said. “But since we’ll be rushing there straight from Goodwill, we should probably wait to order until we’ve all had a chance to use the port-o-potties. Then we’ll really be able to relax and enjoy our lunch.”

 

“That’s perfect,” Bunny smiled. “What a perfect day for Sophie.”

 

“It is her birthday after all,” I said.

 

Sophie threw a crescent roll at me. What can I say? I deserved it.

 

After Kris and the kids left, Mom and I went over to see Bun and Matt’s tree.

 

As I’ve mentioned before, Bunny is a real perfectionist, so she basically decorates her tree with the help of a slide rule. Her ornaments are so carefully positioned (it takes her days) and so carefully selected, each adhering to her perennial theme, “things that you’d actually find in a tree.” There are glass nuts and glittery acorns and paper-mâché birds and gilded leaves and silvery nests and painted bugs and tulle-winged butterflies–but no tacky Santas whatsoever.

 

The lights were mostly blue this year, with a few purple ones sprinkled in, and the overall effect was so calming, so mesmerizing. The rain fell softly outside. We were all sitting in Bunny’s charming living room, gazing at the tree, and Bunny sighed, “Gosh, I wish Sophie was here with her Liv dolls. I see so many things that could really use a wig, like that little stone squirrel, and my voodoo doll, and that Hello Kitty. . . .”

 

I was giggling.