Earlier today, the Man-Cub and I ventured into Hooterville to run a plethora of errands, culminating in a stop at the bank to help the women from my service group set up for next Friday's Holiday Festival of Trees.
This marks the seventh or eighth year that the Cub has accompanied me on this errand, so, it is accurate to say; the women from my club have know and loved him since he was just a little bit of a thing. Which, is why it came as a shock to most of the women to see the child standing mere fractions of inches from my height. Hell, I live with the child and it still shocks me.
On the bright side, the Cub is now tall enough to have helped some of the more petite members of the club when they were having trouble reaching the hangers for their wreaths, so; we can always hire him out as an interior holiday-decorator, I suppose.
And, speaking of holiday decorating, one of my numerous errands included a stop at the local nursery for its' annual Holiday open house. I was hoping to find a Yankee candle in the Jack Frost scent, which, is my favorite candle scent of the season. Unfortunately, Jack Frost is no longer available.
Insert sad face, here.
I did, however, pick up a vintage glass cloche which I am planning to use in a centerpiece along with three vintage Putz houses. What is a Putz house, you ask? Putz houses are little cardboard buildings, frosted with mica glitter and mass-produced in Japan during the 1920's. If your childhood looked anything like mine; your grandmother had two or three of them displayed with small bottle-brush trees, nestled in a bed of angel hair.
I found my Putz houses at an antique store in Pixler and have been wanting a cloche to display them under for some time, mostly because I am craving a hyper-traditional and uber-nostalgic Christmas this year, thanks in no small part to the discovery that the Cub no longer believes in Santa.
Yes, he's fourteen and almost as tall as me, and, yes, he hasn't actually believed for quite some time, but; he let me believe that he did until early this past spring, so I am still processing.
Insert cute graphic of an ostrich with his head in the sand, here.
Annyyyyway....I am planning an old fashioned family Christmas, the likes of which would make June Cleaver proud. Although, June Cleaver probably prided herself on being fairly modern. You know, for her time.
And, I digress...
....so, another item the Man-Cub and I picked up was a tie. The Cub's basketball team is required to dress up on game days and he needed a new tie seeing as he only owns one.
I should also mention that the child knows how to tie said tie and; that was not a skill I taught him seeing as I have a hard enough time tying my own shoes, let alone a dress tie.
Hugh was likewise uninvolved in the tie tying education; instead, the Cub watched one of his male teachers tie a tie and he mimicked the procedure.
I am in awe of that fact because I am in no way, shape or form, the type of person who can watch something being done one time and pick it up like I had been doing it for years.
When I complimented the child on having this skill, he shrugged it off like it was no big deal. Kind of like he shrugged off praise from his coach and teammates last week when he sunk a three-point shot (his first!) or when his teacher congratulated him on bringing his standardized test score up ten points; the kid is humble and, for that, as well as for a million other reasons, I am thankful.
I am, however, far less humble and have no problem bragging about the fact that I make awesome kids.
You heard it here, first.
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