Children really do watch what you do. For instance, perhaps you are always a wee bit befuddled and try to accomplish several things simultaneously and therefore never actually finish anything, but instead have many things halfway done. So, you just don't have much room left in your brain because you are never really in your brain in the moment. And so you make lists to try and stay on track. Lots and lots and lots of lists on scraps of paper everywhere. To-do lists. Grocery shopping lists. Dinner idea lists. Books to read lists. Things to look-up lists.

And then it should come as no surprise when your son presents to you, as though you are a twosome scheduled in a business meeting, his notebook filled with his agenda for the next week: the errands we have to run per my declarations, the play dates we have scheduled, the visitors we have coming ...

Okay, well after posting my little temper tantrum yesterday, I power shopped and power wrapped and got everything done. And made cookies to boot.

Duke opened the door later that night to my beyond wonderful friends singing me Christmas carols and bearing gifts to thank-me for what they consider my kindness towards them. I was blown away. 100%. With everything they do for me, with all the unconditional love and support they send my way, to even fathom that they thought I was worthy of such a beautiful display when I could never thank them enough for all they do just blows my mind.

And then today I was at Mort's school and to see all those smiling, delighted little faces and hear a million high sweet voices singing Christmas carols...it's like my It's a Wonderful Life moment. Who am I to be so bah-humbug when I am so unbelievably blessed to be surround by such beauty and love?

I have never before been this behind on Christmas. I still have presents to think up in addition to actually purchasing them. I haven't wrapped anything. I have no meal plans. No cookies. I don't know what I'm doing.

Luckily someone gifted Mort that Christmas countdown ornament so every two minutes or so he informs me of how much further I've fallen behind.

Someday I'm going to be old enough to go to an island for Christmas and not deal with any of this.

Well, we'll see how this all turns out. The student teacher for Mort's classroom will soon be leaving. As such, his permanent teacher has arranged a surprise party for her. His teacher has stressed over and over that this is a secret and please remind your children to keep this a secret, etc etc.

Mort doesn't really do secrets. If you tell him something is a secret, it's a surefire way to make him blurt it out. So I've been dropping off supplies and gifts without his knowledge.

However, he did discover my volunteer time this week would be different due to the party. "But why?" he kept pressing. So I told him.

Immediately he worried, "But what if Ms.--- asks where you are?" In hindsight, I should have just instructed him to say he didn't know. It's believable and not a total lie. Instead I said, "Uh, just say I'm sick." Which is a lie and I instantly felt bad for instructing him to lie.

No worries though because Mort wanted to expand on that lie like nobodies' business. "I'll tell her you've been having headaches off and on and your stomach hurts!" he exclaimed.

"I doubt she'll even ask, sweetie, but if she does you can just say I'm sick."

"I'll tell her you just really wanted to sleep in today!"

"Honey, you can just say I'm sick, but really, I don't think you'll have to say anything."

I have a feeling that when I show-up, there will be surprises all around. His teacher will be surprised when I come in at all because he will have told her that I was sick and/or sleeping it off and his student teacher will know all about her surprise party because Mort will have told her he can't wait for her surprise party the minute he walked into the classroom.