Implanting identity via Christmas paganism
Put another five dollars in the therapy jar...we over-stimulated the little girl. I do not believe that any one relative sought to throw kks into a frenzy...but she received many kind and thoughtful Christmas gifts. Not knowing what to do with the horn of plenty containing doll houses, hockey games, cars and other delights, she offered the timeless activity of ignoring the toys and playing with boxes and wrap. Many parents (like us) have never learned. Awake all night, we just finished watching a few videos hoping to calm her down. Excitement has run its course through this house like the ocean surf. In a tantrum she passed out last night about 7 p.m., only to awaken at 1 a.m. ready to party. Ack.
At least we gathered some of her older toys for the Goodwill, and if another sibling shows up, there will be a few toys for that munchkin.
On Christmas day we sang a medley of "Gingle Bells" "Jesus Loves Me" and "Santa Claus Go Straight to the Ghetto". An interesting combo of winter, Jesus, American Christmas fable, and social justice. Such is our postmodern schizophrenia.
What I have found interesting is the competing (?) imagery portrayed in the gifts my mother-in-law and I purchased. Guess which gifts came from whom?
Knee Hockey (small goal and sticks)
Here we are, choosing a preferred identity for this little girl. I wonder when she is going to tell us we are all freaks and choose her own identity. What is nature and what is nurture? Many years remain in discovering the answer to that modern question...