Keeping up with the family here. And this family never gets old. Really.
Shopping for a Baby’s First Christmas (Shopping, #15) by Julia Kent was released yesterday in the Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance.
My mother wants all her kids and grandkids to spend Christmas Eve at her house and wake up on Christmas morning together.
Sounds reasonable, right?
And it would be.
If it weren’t my mother.
My husband, Declan, is protesting any involvement, though he’s openly intrigued by the idea of claiming his territory by suggesting we have sex in my childhood bed.
And by ‘suggest,’ I mean make a series of really hot offers that make me whimper when I have to say no.
Wait – why am I saying no again?
Mom has turned her house into a Christmas showcase that makes Frankenmuth look like the picked-over clearance rack at Target on December 26. You know those crazy people on Etsy who make felted gnomes out of belly button lint and use … a certain kind of hair… to make thatched roofs on little decorative elf homes?
Those people are saner than my mother.
There is no force of nature stronger — and more emotionally volatile — than a fifty-something grandmother determined to create holiday memories.
Wait a minute. Maybe there is.
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2RxWTyx
“Declan! Shannon!” Mom calls out. “Come see Ellie’s present from Santa!”
Given that we know exactly what she got, this is just for show, but we humor her, coming into the living room and–
“WHAT IS THAT?” I shout.
Ellie is playing with a puppy. A live puppy.
“Ellie wuvs her widdle Wuffy!” Mom says in a syrupy baby voice. She holds the puppy in front of Ellie, who is sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by all of us (minus Dad). Jeffrey is opening his gaming system, Tyler is reading the box of his robot toy. The stockings are still on the mantel, untouched but not for long.
I take all of that in via peripheral vision, because I’m entirely focused on my mother and my baby, who is burying her fingers in the white puff of dog fur Mom holds before her, the puppy’s pink tongue turning Ellie’s cheek into a salt lick.
“Wuffy?” Jeffrey asks, not taking his eyes off his Santa score.
“That’s just a placeholder name. Ellie can pick the name later!” Mom chirps.
“Santa did not bring Ellie a puppy!” I shout, Dec at my side in an instant, giving Mom the highest cocked eyebrow ever. Pretty sure it touches the moon.
“He didn’t?” she says with a high, nervous laugh, testing me out.
“No, Mom. He did not.” Dec is there as backup, if I need him, but for now, he lets me tackle this one.
Mom backpedals so hard, it’s like she’s doing the Tour de France backwards.
“What? No! Of course not! Santa brought me the puppy.” Mom’s shifty eyes look over at Dad, whose eyebrow looks like Declan’s twin.
This smells like a cover story.