To my son Tommy,
There are some important backdrops to this letter.
First and foremost is how bah humbug I have been this Christmas season. I just can’t find the spirit and tend to bring down the rest of the family in the most Grinchiest of ways.
Second, you are on Christmas break and do not have school today. You have no set bedtime tonight. I however have work. Now usually this does mean some benefit to me as I can sleep in an extra hour because I don’t have to wake early to get you ready and commute into school and then back to work.
Third, you have a large rock collection of unusual and semi precious stones. Your internet searches on these rocks have produced both sound geological science and classifications, but also new wave folk lore on the power and meaning behind certain stones.
And finally, I don’t think you ate corn beef and cabbage last night, but whatever you did eat treats your gut in a similar fashion.
So with all that understood ... your big heart and kind concern wants to change my admittedly depressed attitude despite my warning that YOU are never responsible for someone else’s bad attitude. So last night ... you secretly taped a bunch of stones to the bottom of my pillow. Mostly quartz in hopes that their “powers” would somehow heal my aura. You also kept checking on me as I tried to lay down. About two hours after I got to sleep, I felt a rustle as you decided to sneak in bed with me because you thought it would help.
In theory: I have a loving thoughtful Pollyanna of a son who wants desperately to help his father find Christmas.
In reality:
I was not allowed to go to sleep in a timely fashion as my pre-teen with no bedtime annoyingly checked on me every five minutes as I tried.
When I did fall asleep, I slept on ROCKS put their by said pre-teen (aka you) who has fallen for some pseudoscience New Age mumbo jumbo about their “healing” powers.
I was awoken multiple times throughout my sleep, once when you “snuck” in bed and throughout the night as you rolled around and once, right as I finally got in a deep and restful piece of sleep, with a swift kick to my testicles.
The final awakening was caused by an amazingly loud passing of gas that startled me so bad I awoke confused wondering if I needed to run upstairs and make sure your Grandma Roro had not fallen.
The stench that even permeated my full face cpap mask alerted me to the real situation and at least put my mind to ease that it wasn’t Roro.
It is now 5:45 AM and instead of sleeping in I have woke earlier than a school day because who can sleep in that stench!
As I ready myself for an early work day, what comes to mind is the oldest and wisest of Christmas traditions and saying. “It is the thought that counts!” Somehow through that debacle last night, I have found just a little bit of Christmas. At least I sure am going to fake it because who knows what your next attempt will include. I could wake up to an egg nog water boarding session while you try to shove candy canes up my backside. Now get the rocks out of my effing bed!
Merry Christmas!
Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo
