The neighbours across the street have pretty much adopted us. They're an older couple who have grown children and grandchildren who live far away. Therefore, they lovingly turn a blind eye to the badness emanating from every crevice of our home and blissfully overlook the horns and fangs of our darling little gremlins.
About a week ago they showed up at our door with a manger. A spare one, he said, that was just sitting in their basement. I gave a nervous chuckle that only a parent to several children could interpret to mean "You want me to put that in my house and have it not get broken?"
"Let them play with it," he said kindly. "Over the years they'll probably damage it, but at least they'll have fun, right?"
Over the years. Riiiiiight.
The problem, you see, is that the gremz don't really understand what significance the manger has. They know about Jesus and that Christians believe he was the son of God, but that's pretty much it. The nativity story is a good one that we plan to tell, but just haven't yet. We're openminded folks though, and I am quite certain that God, whoever he or she may be, loves us. We're way too awesome not to love.
Well, we were too awesome not to love until we set up a manger in our home and unleashed the fury of our three demon spawn upon it over the course of a few days. Observe:
Here's a picture of the manger after I set it up. Isn't it pretty?
The first thing you may notice is the deer infestation. I don't know if they even have deer in Bethlehem, but I'm no fauna specialist. Besides, the dear are fuzzy and, most importantly, unbreakable. This proves to be a good thing for them in the days to come.
Other than the Bambi Brigade running out any livestock normally found in a barn, things are pretty status quo. We have three kings carrying some baby bling, Mary, Joseph and cute little Jesus, who must be pretty cold because the blanket only covers up his winker.
Mary's looking pretty good considering she just gave birth. She's dressed nicely, her hair is up. Between you and me, she's a bit overconcerned with her appearance. I mean, really: Is anyone - and I mean, anyone - going to tell the woman who just birthed God's baby that she's looking a little tired? She should just let herself go for a few days. Wear bunny slippers and a ballcap to hide the greasy hair. That's what new motherhood is all about, Mary. Embrace it.
Joseph seems a bit clueless. I don't think he quite knows what to do. He has new sort-of dad syndrome. So, he makes himself useful by holding a lantern. That's nice of him, really. Light is good.
(Psst! Joseph,did you notice the giant star hanging above your head? You know, the one with the angel next to it announcing Jesus' arrival? Stars are bright, dude. I hate to say it, but this has rendered your job useless. You're going to suck it up, put the lantern out and start changing diapers. Sorry, guy.)
Everything was perfect in the little manger. I took a picture to commemorate it.
Then, twenty minutes later, the gremlins discovered the manger, shouted 'Cool! A deer farm!' and we wound up with this:
A sand storm swept through the deer-infested desert. Complete and utter devastation. One of the wise men was knocked unconscious in the manger and another outside. They did manage to keep the gifts securely in their hands even while passed out. That takes talent.
I want to know what's happening on the roof. The angel (who my children insist on calling a fairy) is obviously crying. And Bambi is looking rather smug. I wonder if there was some name-calling going on? Where's that kid's mother? Why isn't she stepping in to discipline? He shouldn't even be on the roof in the first place. It's no place for fawns! Just fairies... er... angels.
(What? Dead? Really? Don't I feel like a jerk now.)
The next day we found even more surprises:
Baby Jesus is all by himself. Where is everybody? Does Dr. Phil know these people are leaving an infant in a barn all alone? Unacceptable. Where are the parents? Someone should have a word with those two.
Well, there's Joseph, standing outside and still holding his lantern (apparently he didn't get my memo). He's looking a tad upset right now. What's wrong, Joseph, buddy? Talk to me. The Maven's here to listen.
Oh, no! Mary's arm fell off! She's an amputee. Tragic. What happened, Mary? How are you going to raise the son of God with only one arm? Joseph's going to have to put down that lantern now (no wonder he's upset). Good thing he's around to help you out. Over the next few years he'll be there for you and your son. He'll help you raise him into a fine young man. Together you'll go down in history as an amazing couple, full of strength and life and...
Wait... Who's that? He's big and red and looks mischievous and evil. Be careful, you guys. Don't trust him. Don't turn your back for even a second. I'm just going to grab a coffee in the kitchen and I'll come right back, ok? Don't look him in the eye while I'm gone!
Ok. I'm back. He's gone? Great. Are you guys alright? What's...
JOSEPH!! NOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!
Crap. I don't think God is going to like this very much.
About a week ago they showed up at our door with a manger. A spare one, he said, that was just sitting in their basement. I gave a nervous chuckle that only a parent to several children could interpret to mean "You want me to put that in my house and have it not get broken?"
"Let them play with it," he said kindly. "Over the years they'll probably damage it, but at least they'll have fun, right?"
Over the years. Riiiiiight.
The problem, you see, is that the gremz don't really understand what significance the manger has. They know about Jesus and that Christians believe he was the son of God, but that's pretty much it. The nativity story is a good one that we plan to tell, but just haven't yet. We're openminded folks though, and I am quite certain that God, whoever he or she may be, loves us. We're way too awesome not to love.
Well, we were too awesome not to love until we set up a manger in our home and unleashed the fury of our three demon spawn upon it over the course of a few days. Observe:
Here's a picture of the manger after I set it up. Isn't it pretty?
The first thing you may notice is the deer infestation. I don't know if they even have deer in Bethlehem, but I'm no fauna specialist. Besides, the dear are fuzzy and, most importantly, unbreakable. This proves to be a good thing for them in the days to come.
Other than the Bambi Brigade running out any livestock normally found in a barn, things are pretty status quo. We have three kings carrying some baby bling, Mary, Joseph and cute little Jesus, who must be pretty cold because the blanket only covers up his winker.
Mary's looking pretty good considering she just gave birth. She's dressed nicely, her hair is up. Between you and me, she's a bit overconcerned with her appearance. I mean, really: Is anyone - and I mean, anyone - going to tell the woman who just birthed God's baby that she's looking a little tired? She should just let herself go for a few days. Wear bunny slippers and a ballcap to hide the greasy hair. That's what new motherhood is all about, Mary. Embrace it.
Joseph seems a bit clueless. I don't think he quite knows what to do. He has new sort-of dad syndrome. So, he makes himself useful by holding a lantern. That's nice of him, really. Light is good.
(Psst! Joseph,did you notice the giant star hanging above your head? You know, the one with the angel next to it announcing Jesus' arrival? Stars are bright, dude. I hate to say it, but this has rendered your job useless. You're going to suck it up, put the lantern out and start changing diapers. Sorry, guy.)
Everything was perfect in the little manger. I took a picture to commemorate it.
Then, twenty minutes later, the gremlins discovered the manger, shouted 'Cool! A deer farm!' and we wound up with this:
A sand storm swept through the deer-infested desert. Complete and utter devastation. One of the wise men was knocked unconscious in the manger and another outside. They did manage to keep the gifts securely in their hands even while passed out. That takes talent.
I want to know what's happening on the roof. The angel (who my children insist on calling a fairy) is obviously crying. And Bambi is looking rather smug. I wonder if there was some name-calling going on? Where's that kid's mother? Why isn't she stepping in to discipline? He shouldn't even be on the roof in the first place. It's no place for fawns! Just fairies... er... angels.
(What? Dead? Really? Don't I feel like a jerk now.)
The next day we found even more surprises:
Baby Jesus is all by himself. Where is everybody? Does Dr. Phil know these people are leaving an infant in a barn all alone? Unacceptable. Where are the parents? Someone should have a word with those two.
Well, there's Joseph, standing outside and still holding his lantern (apparently he didn't get my memo). He's looking a tad upset right now. What's wrong, Joseph, buddy? Talk to me. The Maven's here to listen.
Oh, no! Mary's arm fell off! She's an amputee. Tragic. What happened, Mary? How are you going to raise the son of God with only one arm? Joseph's going to have to put down that lantern now (no wonder he's upset). Good thing he's around to help you out. Over the next few years he'll be there for you and your son. He'll help you raise him into a fine young man. Together you'll go down in history as an amazing couple, full of strength and life and...
Wait... Who's that? He's big and red and looks mischievous and evil. Be careful, you guys. Don't trust him. Don't turn your back for even a second. I'm just going to grab a coffee in the kitchen and I'll come right back, ok? Don't look him in the eye while I'm gone!
Ok. I'm back. He's gone? Great. Are you guys alright? What's...
JOSEPH!! NOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!
Crap. I don't think God is going to like this very much.