If I Never Blog Again After Christmas.. Now You'll All Know Why

A little while ago I was shopping for myself Christmas at a fairly major chain store, and I saw the greatest gift for my nephew ever: a matchbox cars kit where the towers fell down 9-11 style with a bunch of noise and you could shoot cars off a ramp into the open mouth of the included Tyrannosaurus Rex.

I was patting myself on the back all the way to the register and out to the car, picturing how I would be the coolest aunt ever this Christmas for getting the two things little hellions boys like most in one kit: dinosaurs and cars.

A little later, as I was pulling my purchase out of the car, my thoughts turned to something else: the fact that my sister's house is absolutely immaculate with lots of breakables around it.

I looked down at my purchase, and thought about my nephew and his friends flinging little metal cars from the launcher all over the place: into the T-Rex's mouth, into the walls, into the picture frames, at the lamps...

Then I thought about what my sister would think of this cool gift as a parent.

My throat began to tighten.

I had now gone from picturing myself as aunt of the year to having my sister's hands wrapped around my neck as she strangled me for giving my nephew what she will no doubt view as a slingshot for little metal objects.

And now I am afraid. Very afraid.

It's okay, Jordan, you can thank Aunt Erin for the awesome present on Christmas.

That is, if I'm alive after your mother is done strangling me.