It may seem irreverent and mean to prank at Christmas but if you've seen Jimmy Kimmel's prank on kids this year, it could change your mind. The laughs it can bring are well worth getting stuck on the naughty list.
The possibilities for "unwanted" gifts are endless. Had J not seen the clips of children opening up items like a half eaten sandwich or a half empty bottle of tomato juice; he'd have gotten a few Kimmel gifts as well. (i.e. his laundry, folded and wrapped nicely with tissue; half a tub of vaseline- things of that nature.)
The irony, actually, is that I have some gifts under the tree for J that weren't intended to be Kimmel-ish but are Startingly.
Three of the gifts, that have been sitting under the tree this whole month to torture Jaden, are gifts that he is gonna inccorectly think are Kimmel gifts!
Earlier this month I carefully wrapped a couple of Calvin and Hobbes books, I purchased for cheap off of ebay, put them in different sized boxes so it would throw off his guesses and put them under the tree to help build the excitement for Christmas.
And when I went to the Trackside Antique Store to look at Joel Sanda's village collection, I picked up a cheap Nutcracker. This was before J and I had time to read the book I'd checked out from the library of Hoffman's original, bizarre story. I was still under the dreamy "winter wonderland Nutcracker Sweet" impression. (See one of my favorite artists depiction of it below. We shoulda read this version... oh well.)
This is what took place:
Jaden, violently shaking the big box, with the word FRAGILE, written on it:
"This is the air hog I wanted from Wal-Mart isn't it?"
Me: Thinking up a quick Grinch-ish lie and trying to smother a smile,
"I dunnnnooo........ you'll have to just wait to open it Christmas morning!!!!"
Jaden: "I knew it!"
Well, the "warm up" Christmas present at least gave me an indication of what he really wanted. I think I'm going to have to record the look on his face Christmas morning and submit it to Kimmel with this post attached.
If there is one individual that the cosmic forces work against at Christmas time- it's Padre. This is due, in part, that he threatens and harasses Santa Claus the whole month of December.
There wasn't a holiday season in my youth that I wasn't petrified that Padre had offended Santa Claus in some way or another. He'd come home from shopping with Madre, or from work, and inform us kids that he'd seen or sent a message to St. Nick with a Grinch-ishly deceptive story.
Such as:
Santa had been accussed of shoplifting at the mall, Padre had turned him in and he was subsequently arrested and put in the IF jail with the possibility of work release.
Another story was that Santa was writing hot checks and being kept locked up til after Christmas.
Or the final desperate action that he'd be sure to keep the fire stoked on Christmas Eve to keep Santa Claus from coming down our chimney if he couldn't run him out of town first.
All us kids were as baffled as Kimmel's pranked kids and would bawl. We'd look to our exasperated Madre for help and she just shook her head in disgust. Christmas morning would come and to our relief, Santa Claus would have escaped prison, found the money to get our gifts and gotten past the traps Padre had set for him.
Can you imagine our elation?????????????????????????????????
One of our best Christmas mornings was when Santa brought a boom box-
a grey 80's Panasonic boom box,- that has since become a collectible and can be seen in MTV hip-hop videos- we'd received a decade earlier for Christmas, but had mysteriously gone missing.
Before it was resurrected and returned to the rightful, Grinch owner; it was one of Padre's well taken care of possessions. Anything belonging to him is meticulously cared for and Scroogely accounted for in the recesses of his computer-like brain. Each item is kept in collector-like status for the duration of its lifetime while under his care, and the box is preserved in a similiar fashion; mint, wedding dress preservation.
Middle brother, who has a panache for stealthy out right borrowing of Padre's treasures, exploits this quaulity in Padre. And he was the culprit who had "misplaced" the boom box during his post HS years. Before that info was uncovered, however, FBI-like questioning was leveled out on all of us children for years.
Literally.
For years.
We'd be sitting at the breakfast table one morning or a family reunion and Padre would get a far off, sad look in his eye refer to the crisis.
"Where do you think that radio went? You don't remember using it, or a friend mentioning they wanted it? " Padre would ask.
We'd shrug, moan or wonder who the guilty sibling was that took the boom box.
The questioning would be systemic torture.
Did I mention this would continue like a broken record, for years?
With technology he can now use cell phones in his investigations. Padre will send mass text messages when an item comes up "missing" continuing to remind us how aggravated he is that, fill in the blank, has gone missing.
December 2011's missing item is a pair of $12.00 wool socks.
Padre has a deep affinity for his socks. They are kept as clean and neatly tucked in rows in his chest of drawers, as his white church shirts. (Actually the shirts hang in his closet beneath zip up bags from the dry cleaners. But you get the idea.)
Somehow, Madre mistakenly put them in Middle brother's things the last time he visited; thinking they were his. Middle brother lives in Island Park, rarely visits and is as easy to get ahold of as the President. He also happens to let his white lab, Emmy Lou live inside his cabin. (Padre and dogs are a whole different post. But for today you just need to know he doesn't care for dogs. Not in the house. Not in his backyard. Not looking at him. He doesn't DO dogs. Beleive me, we tried to cure him of this in our childhood and ended up sending dogs to friends, family, and the pound.)
Middle brother also likes to taunt/torture Padre with his own correspondic torture. Recently he sent a pics of his socks, laid out harmlessly on his bed.
When Padre recieved the pic of his socks on Jake's bed, his face broke out into a sweat and he turned grey. He started to choke on his toast. I thought he was coming down with the stomache flu that has been going around our house.
But it was really Jake's text, showing the beloved socks. In the days since, an ongoing text battle has ensued.
Middle brother has asked for a ransom in one text:
"Leave money in a brown paper bag on the porch."
Padre quickly pecked out: "I have a large body bag."
If you recall, or are new to this blog, or I haven't discussed this quality in him; Padre has an affinity for his socks. He takes care of them as he does his Nikon camera equipment. Because they touch his feet. Feet that have never set foot on bare ground in his entire life. At least since he went to Vietnam, where he learned to appreciate flip flops and has worn them to and from the shower ever since.
The other day J asked Papa if he'd ever walked bare foot across our kitchen floor.
He shook his head. Laughing, Jaden asked him: "Don't you wonder what it feels like?"
Another head shake.
J: "What do you think it feels like?"
Padre: "Sand paper."
Sometimes Padre will think an item has gone missing that he actually lost. When this happens he concedes the mistake but only after mass texts messages have been sent, private investigators alerted, and Madre, and anyone within the sound of his voice- long distance relatives included- have endured long hours of disgruntled complaints.He acknowledges and forgets the occurence of the mistake much like the Korean War; "meh, it happened." And he goes on as usual.
Yes, every year is a "Kimmel Christmas" in our household and the joy is now being passed down to the grandkids.
If he knew I had used the mint colored Norwex rag (the one designated for the bathroom) the other day on the kitchen counter- it would ruin his Christmas. If you read this Padre, the counter top got re-cleaned with Clorox. Twice.
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