Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Not a Boy, Not Yet a Man...
My brother-in-law is 28.

TWENTY-eight. Not just 8.

My mother-in-law is "letting him stay home alone for Christmas," even though she really feels guilty about it, because he said he doesn't want her to sit around and mope on his behalf while he's at work, which will be both on Christmas Eve and the Day itself. She's being all maudlin about "the first Christmas since H died..." We've heard this song before, and I'm giving her one more refrain in my house before I hit the mute button. (The mute button in my head, that is. Though, oh, what a wonderful world it would be, if my mother-in-law had a mute button on her forehead.)

So... because we can't possibly actually treat him like an adult...

She's hiding his Christmas presents, so that on Christmas morning she can call him and tell him where they are and then listen to him open them.

I want to capitalize some words in that paragraph but I just can't decide which ones.

28. Christ.