Bah! Humbug.

I used to like Christmas. But that was before I had kids. Some people think that kids are what makes Christmas special — and they're right! Kids turn Christmas into Hell, and it's hard to get more special than that.

Scrooge and the Grinch may have been a bit extreme, but they weren't completely off base. Grinch couldn't stand the noise of Christmas, and I suspect it's worse here in 21st century America than it was whereever and whenever Ted Geisel was when he wrote his take on Dickens' "A Christmas Carol".

And Scrooge was rightly annoyed by all the syruppy cheer that seems to ooze from every good little girl and boy. They're so excited they can't sit still or stop yammering. I couldn't count if I tried how many times I've been kicked and shoved and head butted in the past few weeks. And it's just gotten worse as Christmas gets nearer. Of course, I'm not the only one being assaulted — they assault each other and then we get the tears and wailing.

And try to get anything done? HA! Fuggedaboutit! Every two minutes it's, "DA-ad", or, "Ma-om", followed by "come 'er!" or "guess what" or "you'll never believe this" or "__fill in the sibling's name__ just __fill in the offense__".

Church! There's a refuge! Pardon my French, but that's odiferous bovine emission. You see, CPS would be upset if I left the little devils at home so I have to take them with me. I'm looking forward to the day when I'll be able to listen to the readings or hear the priest or deacon give his homily. I'd like to get into the proper frame of mind before going up to take communion. But no, not with two children I can't.

Oh, I can almost hear the people sighing and tsk'ing and whispering to each other about how much I'll miss these precious days. Those people are all women, and as of the last time I checked I'm not a woman. I don't miss the baby years. I don't miss the toddler years. I don't get all gushy looking at pictures of those years or looking at children of those years as we go about our lives. And I won't miss these years either.

Oh, what about the toys I mentioned a few blogs ago? That's more about playing with the toys than it is about playing with the kids. The kids are a bunch of greedy, selfish brats. They're sore losers and worse winners. They have a house full of toys and are continually bored. It's tempting to give away all the toys, sell the TV, and give them nothing but a bunch of chores. And if there's any complaining, "Oh, isn't that sad. Good night. Maybe tomorrow will be better."

Bah! Humbug.