Rain, Naughty Christmas Songs, and Tommy's getting a straight jacket for Christmas

Rainy day. Am terribly excited. Have never lived anywhere that it rained enough for me to tire of it. LA rained more than Phoenix, but not enough. Utah snowed a little, but mostly the winters I was there were cold and sunny (worst possible scenario). Even while I was on study abroad in London, they had a freakish, once in a hundred years, record-breaking hot summer. Before there was a tanning salon on every corner (like now), normally pasty-white British people were glowing with St. Tropez-like tans (almost). One could deduce from all this that I am such a HOT CHICK, wherever I go I affect the weather. If one wanted to deduce such things.

Today I will stay at home and wait for the one inch of rain that the trampy-looking weather girl promised would come. (Why do all the young news ladies look less like less professional journalists and more like aging ex-sorority girls? They get into bar fights, or shoplift, and all the other stations cover these stories like they are actual news.) I should get started right away with all that needs to be done this morning, but instead I sit here and sip hot chocolate from my personalized mug that Jen brought me (and the rest of the family) last night. She also brought with her carolers who taught my kids a new, naughty Christmas song, which is, of course, the best present ever. It goes like this:

Deck the Halls with gasoline. Falalalalalalalalala.
Light a match and watch it gleam, Falalalalalalala,
Watch the school burn to ashes, Falalalalalalalal
Aren't you glad you played with matches? Falalalalalalalalalalala

I'm sure this is just new to us, not new. It is probably a boy thing, but Jane is happy to sing a-long. At least it gives us a few days' respite from the old standby:

Dashing through the snow, on a broken pair of skis
O'er the fields we go, smashing into trees.
The snow is turning red, I think I'm almost dead.
I'm lying in the hospital with stitches in my head.
JINGLE BELLS BATMAN SMELLS ROBIN LAID AN EGG. THE BATMOBLIE LOST A WHEEL, AND JOKER GOT AWAY. HEY!

If any of you know any different ones, please leave them in the comments section. I have decided the ride to school isn't nearly so bad if we have a little variety.

I have new tree woes. I'll confess, I think my proclamations of love for the plastic tree were premature. Our relationship might be on the rocks. The problem isn't its plastic-ness (plasticity didn't seem like the right word), but its very existence. Let me illustrate:

When Jen came over yesterday, she asked: "Why don't you have any ornaments on the bottom of the tree?"

I replied: "There used to be some, but Tommy keeps ripping them off. Then he wanders around the house dropping the pieces all over. So then I decided to fold over the branch around the ornament (don't try this with your Noble Fir), so with even medium tugging the ornament will not come loose, and Tommy will soon be persuaded that the baubles are part of the tree, and after a few days will leave them alone. I was feeling pretty smug about my plan, but Tommy just sees it as a more exciting challenge. Look, here he is. He can show you the problem."

Tommy comes over to the tree and looks and points, eyes wide, asking "whasat?" He has a very limited vocabulary. He wouldn't be a good blogger. Then he grabs hold of a little chandelier ornament and starts to pull. His eyes narrow, and he tugs harder, using both hands, gritting his teeth. Finally, as half the chandelier comes crashing to the ground (the other half still attached to the tree), Tommy puckers his lips and starts yelling "Oh. Oh ohohohoh!" He is like a hunter with his kill. It's all about the sport.

He just showed me a small silver baby rattle he pulled from the tree a few minutes ago, then he ran off. It is probably lost now in the mountains of clean and dirty clothes in the entryway. Now has removed his own pants, has pulled the step ladder up to the tree (while muttering "get down" over and over like a mantra), taken down a silver disco-looking ball, and thrown it at the side of my head, yelling "ball." Now he is under the tree on his belly, flipping the lights on and off.

Sam is out in the garage, looking for more stuff to bring in for Tommy to break. Occasionally, he comes in and demands something, like:
"Why isn't my name on my stocking? Help me make a name tag for my stocking!"
"Get me on ToysRUs.com so I can make a Christmas list!"
"Let's put up the stockings. Right now!
"I want four crackers and four pieces of salami. Cut the salami in half and then in half again. No, not like that. Now I need more crackers."
"Did you print out the Christmas list?"
"Did you make me hot chocolate?"
"Can you turn on the village?"
"Where is the little tree for my room? I'll go back out to look."
"Can I have a candy cane?" No. (So he goes and eats the candy cane on the tree dressed as a reindeer, which I made in the 2nd grade, circa 1981).

Not sure I can do this for a month.
I think I hear rain! Am very pleased.