Merryjuana Christmas!

Zozo has a complete grasp of the present-unwrapping concept now. She's got "rip 'n run" down to an art form, complete with little "oohs" at every tear. There are a few things she's gotten pretty excited about, including a pink plastic table from Great Grandma Swearingen, a Dirt Devil vacuum cleaner from "Anmma" and Grandpa Z, new slippers from Uncle and a MagnaDoodle from her godfather, but by and large the hit of the holiday season is the kitchen set from her Grammy and Papa.

She had first unwrapped several packages of wooden food, including an adorable condiment set, when Grammy called her over to the corner of the great room. "Look, Zozo!" With more flair and pizazz than Vanna White, Grammy pulled a red blanket off the kitchen set. Commence happy dance. M and I agreed we don't know that we've ever seen Zoe get so excited over a toy. She immediately set to work learning which doors opened and how, and turning on the water faucet. The knobs for the oven got a good workout, and the microwave was tested, unfortunately with Hoot inside. After she gave him a good nuking, he went in the fridge to cool down. In between all this, she'd stop to jump up and down with sheer glee.

She spent much of the rest of the night "cooking." She gave Hoot several baths in the sink and kept inviting various family members to come over to "SIT!" while she cooked. She's like an old Italian grandmother who insists on feeding everyone who stops by. "EAT! EAT!"

We don't have the kitchen set at home yet, as it's rather large and requires the delivery services of Aunt KK and Uncle (S)hawn (to Zoe, the "S" is silent in Shawn). We did get all her wooden food home, and Christmas morning she cooked for us. "Pizza. Hot!" She's the next Rachel Ray, I tell ya. After that, all day she asked to go home, to the library, so she could cook. I'm sure her requests will increase in frequency as soon as the kitchen arrives.

Christmas Eve we arrived home late, around 10:30. We got our sleepy Zo out of the car and Daddy walked her out to see her star (a nightly ritual) before bringing her in to put her back to bed. M went back out to check on the lights, and upon returning inside said, "You know, I was just out there and I swear I smelled pot. Someone's smoking wacky weed in our neighborhood!" I had smelled it, too. Who on earth in our little conservative suburban enclave was smoking weed on Christmas Eve? We speculated and decided it's the next door neighbor, who was suspiciously wandering around his front yard with no apparent purpose.

Which means to our north we have the Driveway Nazi, who clicks around at midnight in her stilettos, clearing every damn leaf and twig off her driveway, which happens to be five feet out our bedroom window, and to the south we have Cheech. Or Chong. Does it really matter?

Thank goodness the people out our back door are normal. We love them.

Much love and appreciation go out to our entire family, who once again gave us a wonderful Christmas and lots and lots of fun. Everyone was too generous, as usual, and we are so grateful.

Marijuana Christmas and Happy Toke Year!