Noel, rhymes with...hell

Saw a few snowflakes on my way down the mountain, of course, that turned into freezing my ass off huddled over a computer trying to sift through a memoir about incest and Southern states. Wouldn't put those two together, would you?
It dawned on me that Christmas is approaching like a giant freight train coming down a hill that has lost its brakes. Not a nice, friendly, Polar Express-type passenger gig that is steamed by hot chocolate and goodwill. Nope, this train has a Christmas tree attached to the front of it like a battering ram and the cars are rusted and overladen with moldy citrus fruits and broken toys.
I've tried to play out the conversation in my head. You know, the one where you tell the kids that Santa is having a monetary fiscal crisis and they will probably be getting tic tacs in their stockings and maybe a pack of underwear and socks as their "main gift".
Yeah, I can't envision it either, especially since Lucian has circled EVERY SINGLE EFFIN TOY in the JC Penny gift catalogue. Some things, the ones with scopes and ammo, he has circled two or three times and folded the page over so that there is no questions or confusion on Santa's part. These moments tempt me to get a credit card, but I just can't bring myself to do it. It seems the older they get the more expensive the requests become.
Anna wants a new bike and a friggin' skateboard. Plus a few more Breyer horses ($50 a pop) and some kind of brain waves toy.
Lucian wants a Wii. That's all he's wanted since Whitney got one last year. $250. The look on his wan face when he is eating rice and beans for the 90th time while playing Mario Wii, priceless.
Dinner was a leftovers affair, in more ways than one. I'm thinking I'm going to take the night off and scrape together some cash from the floor of the car and head to the Clown with the kids.....