My Dad's side of the family usually meets up for holidays either the weekend before or the weekend after. This year we had our Christmas Shinanigan on Monday the 28th. I don't know if you can tell from this picture, but there are a LOT of freaking people. 51 people in all, I believe, not including Alex on his mission in Zimbabwe.
I am not a fan of loud noise and little kids shrieking all over the house and people yelling over everyone else. Chaos does not make me happy. But over the years, somehow I mellowed out without even knowing it, and this just gets crazier and crazier and funner and funner every year. We had family in from Washington and my cousin Caryn came from Texas towing her family.
After food comes the Pinata...again. Apparently all of my cousin's kids look forward to this more than Christmas Morning...okay maybe not that but pretty close. Morgan has taken over as Pinata Handler and I resumed my job as blindfolder and regulator. Merrill was judge on what was considered a tap and a hit. The kids get lined up from youngest to oldest, with 5 and older having to be blindfolded (Aiden just hates this rule).
This is me, pretty pissed off because Bronsynn thinks she's freakin' hilarious when she sneaks up behind me and slaps my booty as hard as she can. In reality, she has been threatened with her life numerous times, held down, chased and hit back...and she still does it. I never laugh....oh no...I get PISSED. OFF. In fact, just writing about it makes me want to go hunt her down and hang her up as the pinata.
And off the kids went:
And as soon as Abby broke it open after the third round, it was like a stampede in the family room:
We played Christmas Cherades...
...watched a wrestling match....
...watched another wrestling match...
...& watched some acrobatics.
When the crew and had all headed out, Dallin was told to help clean off his kiddie table, and then assumed the responsibility of cleaning everything else he could see, including the wooden bear statue:
And lastly, Kevin picked some tunes on the guitar for us. He likes to make songs from things happening right then. When my Grandma Madsen stopped by Christmas morning, he started singing about her purple pants and fur coat (luckily she was oblivious to this). When he played, Dallin started dancing his cute little jig and hit himslef in the face with his washrag. So Kevin burst in to song about that. Dallin made me, Amber and Xanie get up and dance with us, giving us each a washrag of our own. And we. were. rockstars.
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