The Fun -- and Pain -- of the Holidays

During the holidays, my brother and mother visited. My daughter, 7, said, “Spending time with you is the best present of all.”

My brother said, “Aww. Belle, you always know just what to say.”

My son John, 5, responded by saying, “Yes, and if you had a white beard you’d look just like Santa!”

While John might have bruised his uncle’s ego, it was nothing compared to what he did to his own father. The kids got Disney Scene It, a game involving watching DVD clips of Disney productions and answering trivia questions about them.

Belle and John, both incessantly seeking control, fought over the remote. John, strong as a Clydesdale, ripped it away and clocked me right in the orbital bone. Nearly plumb knocked me out!

John, always knowing just what to say, said, “Oops. Sa-weee.”

Then not 5 minutes later, Belle is showing her uncle how she can bounce her new soccer ball on her knees and for some reason, as it's getting away from her, she kicks it full force -- right into her uncle's face from point blank, hitting his check and glasses.

Fortunately, his blow didn’t hurt. I was the one who ended up with the egg on my orbital bone.

Here’s to the holidays. And to them ending—so I can heal.