Mice in My Car, Snow(ish), and Family Lore

There are mice in my car. I know this because this morning I found little curls of gold foil that had formerly contained chocolate coins for the kids' stockings. I know this is a problem, that they might eat up my air filters and electrical thingies, but I kind of love the image of little mice nibbling on chocolate coins, it seems like something from a Beatrix Potter book. I will have to get them out before they ruin my car, but I'll let them enjoy their bounty for a bit. 

It's a week until William's birthday, and a week and a half until Christmas. It snowed a few brief, wet, sloppy flakes yesterday. Long enough for us all to run outside, catch a few flakes on our tongues (and in our eyes), throw a few snowballs, and then come back in for hot chocolate. Taiya is now desperately hoping for a white Christmas, but this has only happened once in the 13 Christmases I've spent in Arkansas. We were talking about it last night at dinner, and Taiya said, "Wasn't that the Christmas Daddy ditched you to go for a walk?" I busted out laughing, and Jeremy gave me a look. Apparently I didn't hold back when I told Taiya that story. 

Here's what really happened. That was the year I stepped on a sewing needle, about a quarter inch of it broke off in the ball of my foot, and I had to get it cut out and then my foot stitched back up again. I was in a walking boot cast thingy for 6 weeks (or was it 12? I can't remember), including over Christmas. This was before Jeremy and I were married and we were still living in the yurt. That Christmas we were up at the farmhouse with the Prater clan, and someone had given someone else a DVD of a super racist stand-up comedian. After the big family lunch, Jeremy ditched me to go for a walk in the snow. I was stuck in the living room while his family watched this DVD and laughed, and I sat off to the side observing in silent horror. Eventually I got fed up with it and went out on the back patio to watch the birds at the bird feeders, wrapped in a blanket, waiting for Jeremy to come back so we could go home and not have to listen to someone making horrible jokes about people from the Middle East. To be fair to Jeremy, he did not know anything about the comedian and didn't know his family was going to watch the DVD before he went traipsing out in the snow, so it wasn't really his fault. And this was before we each had our own cell phones, so I couldn't text him to tell him to take me back to our tiny yurt where I could watch The West Wing in peace with my foot propped up on a pillow, eating Christmas candy. 

At some point I must have told Taiya a colorful version of this story but I do not remember, so when she threw it out there into the conversation I cracked up. And it made me realize I'm going to have to be careful about how I pass on family lore. She has a very good memory.