Magic Reindeer Food

Having boys means that you are engaged in a never ending battle against sabotage.  It comes in many forms.  Sometimes it's a sortie.  Other times it's a massive and well planned attack on multiple targets.  In order to speak Boy, you have to be ready for every eventuality.  My wife is very good at this game.

Logan and his friends made "Magic Reindeer Food" in preschool.  At three years old, this was by far the most exciting thing he had done in preparation for Christmas.  He was nearly beside himself in anticipation of being able to spread this rolled oat and glitter concoction over the lawn to attract Santa's reindeer.  It was darling.  The package bore a label (which he had colored himself) reading:

Magic Reindeer Food: Sprinkle the Magic Reindeer Food on your lawn.  The smell of oats and the sparkling glitter will guide Rudolph to your house on Christmas Eve.

The real task, of course, was preventing Logan from spreading it over the grass the day he brought it home.  We simply could not convince him we would not be immediately descended upon by 32 cloven hooves just because we made oatmeal on the lawn.  It quickly turned into a two week long squabble.  Finally, Christmas Eve arrived.  Logan went to put on his shoes.  Logan's older brother, Ethan, was flabbergasted, if not a little bit mischievous and attempted to express concern while simultaneously cause a stir.

"Are you trying to poison the reindeer?" Ethan demanded.

"They're magic reindeer," Ashley said, fixing Ethan with a murderous look.  "They know how to fly. They'll know how to manage the glitter," she said, hoping that Logan had not overheard.

"Yeah, in heaven!" he said under his breath.

- 24 December 2011