I had every intention of posting an update on the blog yesterday. Obviously, I failed to consider the energy level of my excited seven year old when I wrote that promise. Robby woke up at 7:30, squealing the arrival of Santa Claus. Much to his chagrin, I insisted that I put on my leg before accompanying him to the Christmas tree to inspect his loot. If I followed his pleas, we would have saved time by hopping.
True to tradition, I think that Santa went overboard again this year. Robby faced a towering pile of presents in front of the tree. Undeterred and up for the task, he tackled the looming mountain of gifts with a dedication only exhibited by the young. Within 15 minutes everything was unwrapped and the living room was covered in sheets of torn Angry Birds wrapping paper. Only after everything was revealed did he pause to inspect his haul.
We spent the morning assembling the toys and trying to create a semblance of order out of the chaos that became my living room. Robby happily played with each toy after the batteries were installed and all the loose parts were clicked into place. It turns out that the process worked well by allowing him ample time to play with each toy before a new one was ready. After nearly two hours, all of his toys were beeping, firing and flying around.
It is hard to say which toys are Robby's favorites, but I would have to say he has a strong affinity for the two remote controlled helicopters and the fart gun (courtesy of Nana of course). We spent hours in the driveway as he practiced flying and landing the helicopters. After numerous crashes, he finally became a quasi-competent pilot. Thankfully the helicopters are deemed "indestructible," although we are sure to put that claim to the test!
It was so nice of my Mom to make the 5 hour (round-trip) drive to visit us on Christmas. Robby loved showing her his toys! Unfortunately she visited before the living room had recovered from the morning destruction; she was literally walking over plastic army men, tanks, Nerf bullets and wrapping paper during the entire visit. I tried to explain that the house does not usually look that bad, but judging from the toy clutter catastrophe I realize that my claim was difficult to believe.