Chicago, Vol IV

On behalf of the Illinois Watsons, let me wish you all a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. It's been a festive and busy time since I left you last, so let's get caught up before the yule log burns down any more.

For the first time in our 10-year marriage, Reege and I hosted Thanksgiving, and our test victims were the Schalago family from Randolph, NJ. For almost three years the Schalagos supported and entertained us in New Jersey; John and Lynn have three daughters, Kaitlin (13), Stephanie (12), and Libby (5) who is Maggie's "best friend forever." The five braved the drive across I-80, stopping no fewer than 11 times for Starbucks, and arrived to join in our Thanksgiving feast. No one was injured during the filming of our Thanksgiving, or in the eating of the meal, which by default became the number 1 thing for which we were thankful.
That Friday, the ten of us loaded up the vans and headed to Chicago, to visit the Museum of Science and Industry. The Museum is on the south side of the Lakeshore area of Chicago, and contains famous exhibits such as the German U-505 submarine that was captured during WWII, an operational replica of a coal mine, and a scale replica of a human heart that you can walk through (the person that matches the heart would be 28 stories tall). The Museum building is the only surving structure of the 1893 World's Fair, which was seen locally as a sign of Chicago's recovery from the little bonfire that cow started back in 1871. We had a nice time at the museum, despite unwittingly sharing the experience with thousands; the day after Thanksgiving is the Museum's busiest day of the year. Go figure. I had decided that everyone would be on Michigan Avenue shopping; apparently with 9.7 million people in the metropolitan area, there were others who thought the same. Reege and I figured the crowds just made the Schalagos feel like they were in the Northeast.

Regis and I have been passing some of our evenings at the Naperville Tennis Club, which is an indoor tennis center about 10 minutes from our house. It's a nice way to stay in shape during the winter doldrums. We each play in a different league; Regis on Sunday nights and me on Tuesdays. The lovely and talented Mrs. Watson returned home one night after a close but unsuccessful match. As we sat at dinner, discussing our day, Maggie asked Regis why she had lost. Regis said, "well, the other person scored more points than I did." To which Maggie, looking to dispense some helpful tips, replied, "why don't you just do that next time?"

Dinner time often provides such commiserating about the day's events. One of our traditions is to ask "what was everyone's favourite part of the day?" Invariably, one of the kids will remember, if the lovely and talented Mrs. Watson, or I, forget. Last night we were eating dinner with my in-laws, who were in town for their Christmas visit. Maggie initiated the daily question and started by saying her favourite part was the dollhouse she received from her Oma and Opa as a gift. Annie responded in kind (which is unusual because Annie usually comes up with some doozies during this segment. Like the time she said her favourite part of the day was catching a moose or the other time she said it was swimming with a walrus). Regis said her favourite part of the day was having everyone be happy at Christmas; my in-laws said it was seeing the children. I said it was seeing the happiness in everyone's eyes when they gave Oma and Opa the gifts they had picked for them. Then Jimmy, in a straight face, with the most deadpan tone possible, said "my favourite part of the day was whipping my dad's behind in air hockey."

Another classic moment happened at dinner just the night before. We had decided to have wine, since it was a special occasion, namely Friday. So we got the wine glasses out and did the usual "favourite part of the day" schtick and the whole nine yards. Now just last week, I had taken the kids for our annual Christmas shopping excursion. This is where Jimmy, Maggie, Annie, and I set out to buy gifts for the lovely and talented Mrs. Watson. It's fun for me to watch; the kids don't need much help, I just ask "what would Mom need, what could Mom use, and what would Mom love to open on Christmas Day?" Now, you can imagine there are some absolutely phenomenal suggestions, and I could write 3,000 words on that day alone. But let's not get crazy. So anyway, Maggie picked out wine glasses for the lovely and talented Mrs. Watson, because I had strongly hinted to her that Reege wanted them. When Maggie asked why, I explained, in front of three saleswomen who were following me around (undoubetdly wagering money on my inevitable surrender to the forces of the three children), that the wine glasses we had at home did not "ding" when they were hit together and that Mom wanted some that sounded prettier. So Maggie and I tested some (how we got out of there without Annie testing them and doing about $10,000 worth of damage I will never know) and picked out a set. Fast forward back to dinner this week. Maggie says, "Mom do you like your new wine glasses?" Reege, knowing immediately that the riskest part of my excursion had just come to fruition, was a good sport and said "Yes." Maggie, realizing a bit later that she had slipped, said "I won't tell her about the glasses Dad, I promise." Definitely a cute moment.

That should cover it for now, though I'm sure I've forgotten a lot. Every day tends to be an adventure. We hope you all have safe and happy holidays, and we hope to see or hear from you all soon. Thanks to each of you for a wonderful 2007; here's to more fun in 2008, which of course is the Year of the Armadillo.

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't apologize to my wife, to my father, and my sister Joan, who were terribly annoyed that I utilised the Queen's English during certain portions of this post.