Just Looking.

We are opening presents tonight as Jill leaves tomorrow for her Dad's house. Whenever I mention this, I am met with the question, "How do you handle the girls being gone over Christmas?" How do I handle it? How? Well, let's see....I sleep past six am. Sometimes I take a nap in the middle of the day. I go to dinner, in big people restaurants. You know the kind without playlands. I read books. I watch shows that don't include Hannah Montanna or the cast of High School Musical. But I digress. Last night, Kenny and I wrapped the girls' presents. They had no idea, so it was quite a surprise this morning. When I turned the light on in the living room it elicited two loud, "WOW"s.

Jill, of course, demanded to know the specifics. When can I open them? Exactly how many presents do I have? Does Emmi have more? How come I have small boxes and Emmi has a big box? Did you spend more on me, as I am the oldest child and demand that everything I have be more, bigger, better?

Emmi was more concerned with getting her paws on some of those presents. She latched on to one of Jill's. A small box, containing a charm for Jill's charm bracelet. I drag her away from the tree and find her two minutes later holding the small box, both hands wrapped tightly around it. I pry it from her fingers, put it back under the tree, and like magic it appears in her clutches again! After about nine rounds of this, I noticed the corner was pulled up on the wrapping paper.

"No Emmi. That is Jill's. We are not opening presents now. Wait." I sign "wait" for emphasis. She echoes me, also signing waiting, then scoots away from the tree. Considering, she just started talking and we are a bit unsure of her level of understanding (and she is defiant, and doesn't listen to a damn thing anyway), I am not sure she really gets what I am saying. I know she knows "wait." So I say it again. She gives me the look. The one that says, "I heard you, but as soon as you turn your back....."

Twenty seconds later, I find her on her belly, face propped in her hands, two inches from the tree, staring at the box.

"Emmi. Mommy said to stop touching those presents."

She turns and looks at me. "I just lookin'," she yells!