The Tooth Fairy

I figure that of all the traditional mythological characters, most of my energy goes towards substantiating Santa Claus. Well, first, of course, is Prince, but after that, Santa Claus.

 I really don’t have any patience for the Easter Bunny. I outted that sucker immediately. Why on earth would a rabbit go house to house hiding painted chicken eggs? I’ll have none such nonsense going on in my home.

And somewhere caught in the crossfire is The Tooth Fairy.

I will freely admit I do not have a great track record with The Tooth Fairy. My approach is so half-baked. My heart just isn’t in it. Many are the nights Katie and I are going to bed and one of us will remember, “One of our 18 children lost a tooth! We need some loose change to exchange for this tooth!” And it is surprisingly difficult to come up with change on some nights. I’ve had to look for change in the couch. I’ve had to go out to the car and check my little loose-change compartment. I’ve even had to – and I wish I were making this up – take money out of my child’s little Piggy Bank and put their own money under their pillow! I know it’s not listed in the Bible, but I’m pretty sure this is going to come up on my final exam for entrance into Heaven.

I know I’m not the only parent to have completely spaced the Tooth Fairy business and to have been woken up the following morning with a child waving a tooth clenched between their thumb and forefinger, yelling into your face, “The Tooth Fairy didn’t come!”

Your brain freezes and you find yourself saying the most inane things to cover yourself. Things like, “She must have been really, really busy,” or “Maybe she couldn’t find it,” or “Maybe she was with Prince and they were partying like it’s 1999.” Once I actually heard myself say, “Well, it was the Sabbath. So, you know…we aren’t…supposed…to work…on…you know…the Sabbath.”

My seven-year old, Connor, recently lost a tooth. And we didn’t get the job done the first night. So we gave some lame excuse, and told him to put it under his pillow again that night. And as I slipped my hand under his pillow to find the tooth, I came across something else. A note.

“Dear Tooth Fairy,

Where is my money? I’m not trying to be mean, but seriously, where is it?

Connor”

Yes, to my son, this magical sprite was no longer a wonder and a marvel. She was no longer delightful and mystical. She was a lady that was holding out on him. And she must be dealt with justly.

I almost left the tooth, just to see what the next note might say. I can only imagine.

“Dear Tooth Fairy, Look, I thought we had an arrangement. I think you know how this works. Don’t make me report you. I will have you fired so quickly it’ll knock your own teeth out. You’ll be ‘The Fairy Formerly Known as Tooth.’ You’ll suffer a time period of mediocrity, before you take your name back and rise again to a respectable level of fame. Just make it easy on yourself and leave the money.” 

The Craig Bunch: Our Christmas Card

THE CRAIG BUNCH Episode Guide for Season 13

This is brief listing of some of the episodes from 2008.  Each is a mix of hectic and calm, laughter and tears, desperation and inspiration.  And of course, every episode teaches a very valuable lesson!

The Florida Episode: The Craigs fly across the continental United States to Florida and pack in as much Disney, seashore, and scenic alligator sightings as they can. Take Home Message: Family togetherness is important. Cramming three different amusement parks into three consecutive days? Less important. Spread it out, folks.

The Child Development Episode: Garren (age 9) plays club baseball, involving many weekend trips up to St. George. Connor (age 7) can usually get out of trouble by saying something funny. Roxanna (age 5) has no filter and says whatever comes to her mind. Take Home Message: Garren won’t be playing club baseball anymore, Connor will continue to work on new material, and the family agrees that Roxanna’s comment “You smell like rice pudding” must be a compliment.

The Theatrical Episode: The entire Craig Family performs in the Stake Play: A musical review called “We Go Together.” Their ditty? As 7-month pregnant Katie belts out the Oklahoma classic, “I’m Just a Girl Who Cain’t Say No”, Ken and the kids dance around on stage.  Tanner (age 2) steals the show as he shakes what his momma gave him.  Take Home Message: What’s a stake play without a little harmless innuendo?

The Birth Episode: (Originally aired during "Sweeps," of course.) Katie delivers 10-pound Rebecca Craig…at home…unassisted by anyone but Ken.  Take Home Message: Immediately calling your midwife when you are in labor is important. So is keeping a clean guest bathroom. We’re just sayin’.

The Church Service Episode: Ken completes his first year as The Ward Bishop and loves the members of the Elk Ridge Ward. Take Home Message: Sometimes bishops are forced to feign amusement each time someone comments on his rapidly graying hair. Bishops have feelings too.

The Family Reunion Episode: The Craigs join The Entire Craig Family and then the Fillmore Family for a summer of family reunions in Utah. Take Home Message: During the summer months, the Craigs will leave Las Vegas at the drop of a hat.

The Bakery Episode: Abbie (age 11) starts her own bakery business out of our home, supplying a variety of homemade breads to a burgeoning clientele list. Take Home Message: Man cannot live on bread alone…unless it is Abbie’s homemade bread, because then, yes you can, people. Yes you can.

The Music Episode: The Craig kids are tapped as musical prodigies as they masterfully play the piano, trumpet, flute, drums, and cowbell. Take Home Message: The kids take after their mom. Dad is useless unless you are interested in “music appreciation.”

The Holiday Special: Katie directs a group of home schoolers in a Christmas play and produces it at a homeless shelter and two retirement homes. Take Home Message: Putting 30 kids in costumes on a stage is entertainment, no matter what happens. Everybody loves them.

The Christmas Episode: After surviving the biggest Las Vegas snowfall since 1979, the Craigs take time to express all their love and gratitude to their family and friends. Take Home Message: They recognize how truly, truly blessed they are to know such wonderful people and such wonderful doctrine as the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Merry Christmas from The Craig Bunch!

Ode to the Nog

Say what you will about egg nog, but unless you are saying “It’s delicious,” then you’re wrong. I love this beverage. I love everything about it. Well, not the name (which sounds dangerously dangerous; like you are destined for food poisoning.) But for the love of all things holiday-ish, this elixir is an instant party in your mouth. Your senses are heightened. You can actually smell colors. (P.S. Your senses might be confused as well.) (But you won’t see that warning on the box.) (Because if egg nog were to start putting warnings on their containers they would have to include things like “Warning: You will quickly and gladly sell your children for more egg nog.”) (I like writing inside parentheses.)

Egg nog is not so highly endorsed by all people. In fact, it’s not even endorsed by all of my family. In fact, it’s not even endorsed by all Ken Craigs in my family. Take for example, my father who also goes by Ken Craig, and whose response to egg nog is, “Whoever would drink that stuff would drink their own bath water.”

Touché, Dad.

Fact is, there aren’t too many fence sitters with egg nog. People either love it, or they are communist. You don’t see too many folks who say, “I can take it or leave it.” It’s usually, “I can and WILL take it – at gun point, if necessary” or “Get that swill away from me, you filthy beast.”

Well, I adore it. In all it’s forms – Dreyer’s ice cream, Jack In the Box shakes, pumpkin flavored, and on and on. But my favorite is Southern Comfort’s Vanilla Spice Egg Nog. Oh, hold me. I get the fever for it just talking about it. You must try it. I defy you to not fall in love with it. And for those of you concerned; no, it does not come with Southern Comfort already in it. It’s just pure heavenly non-alcoholic egg nog. You have to add the Southern Comfort yourself. But being the non-drinker that I am, I don’t add any Southern Comfort. I add a cup of my own bath water.

 Cheers! 

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

If I may quote the late, skeletal Karen Carpenter:

“It's that time of year when the world falls in love.
Ev'ry song you hear seems to say ‘Merry Christmas,
May your New Year dreams come true.’
And this song of mine in three-quarter time,
Wishes you and yours the same thing, too.”

If you are a longtime reader of this blog o’ mine, then I just want to take the opportunity to say, “Hi, Mom!” But also, if you are a different longtime reader of this blog and you didn’t give birth to me, then you may have noticed that around this time of year, I get a little giddy about Christmas.

Last year I even gave my ode to Christmas movies. (“A Very Merry Christmas Movie.” You can read that by clicking here.)

This year, we are going to broach the subject of Christmas-y Tunes.

When we drag into the house our boxes of All Things Christmas, and there is finally room to park the van in the garage, we divide and conquer. Somebody is assembling the fake Christmas tree, somebody is hanging stockings, somebody is deciding which Christmas movies we are going to watch in which order, and somebody is usually fighting over who gets to hang the In-N-Out Burger Christmas ornament on the tree. And yes, usually I win. But while this is all going on, there is Christmas music playing. And the first CD played is a mix we all jointly made together four years ago.

It begins with the Johnny Mathis version of “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” Why Johnny Mathis? Don’t know. It was the version we had on hand when we created this Christmas mix, I guess. But I have to say, while I know nothing about the man, I find his version of this song invigorating. It makes me shake my moneymaker like nobody’s buh-riz-ness. I picture myself as Mr. Mathis, but in addition to singing the song, I am leading the orchestra that is knockin’ this song all over the place. Like I’m some sort of less-senile Mr. Kruger. 

Other gems include classics like Perry Como’s “(There’s No Place Like) Home for the Holidays,” Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas,” and Nat King Cole’s “The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire).” Also retro/classics like Bobby Helms’ “Jingle Bell Rock,” The Beach Boys’ “Little Saint Nick,” and Dean Martin’s “Baby, It’s Cold Outside (The Date Rape Song).” Then finally, some modern stuff like Coldplay’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” U2’s “Baby, Please Come Home,” Sting’s “I Saw Three Ships,” and Annie Lennox’s “Put a Little Love in Your Heart.”

My kids come absolutely unglued when this CD is playing. They reach a level of hyper that machines can’t measure. It is a marathon of Christmas merriment. Also, not to be missed is my uncanny impression of Peggy Lee singing “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” (complete with fake cigarette and gyrations during the part where she says, “Every cou-ou-ple tries to stop…”) But my favorite part…the thing I wait all year for, is Katie’s impression of Faith Hill singing “Where Are You Christmas?” She won’t do it for me any other time of the year. I have to wait for this special holiday season to hear Katie/Faith turn the word “changing” into a 23-syllable word. “My world is ‘cheee-ee-a-ahhhhh-aa-ahn-gee-ah-ee-ing.” No wonder Faith can’t find Christmas. If I were Christmas, I would hide from her too.

Which leads me to my second point: Christmas Songs That Make Me Violent.

One of them is “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas.” There is nothing cute or redeeming about this song. I say give the brat a hippopotamus. She deserves what she gets. And when that hippo poops, I’ll say, “I hope there’s a shovel and some boots in your stocking. Any other large mammals you’d like to own? Didn’t think so.”

And while I will freely admit that as a child I found much humor in “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer,” I have emphatically boycotted that song in my home. My children don’t know it. First of all, it is disrespectful to my mother. If a reindeer ran over my mother and killed her, as the song suggests, believe me, that reindeer would be jerky by New Year’s Eve. Plus, to suggest my mother is some sort of eggnog-guzzling lush and wears a silver-blue wig? Please. Is nobody else offended by this drivel?

And finally, this next song itself doesn’t raise my eyebrows, but gives me pause. Just a cautionary word: If you are approached about stepping into a studio and singing a rendition of “Santa Baby,” then congratulations, society views you as the recording industry’s biggest hooch.  From the original Eartha Kitt to Madonna, to Kylie Minogue, to RuPaul, to The Pussycat Dolls, to Miss Piggy and finally, Calista Flockhart. (Who, let’s be honest, actually could hurry down the chimney tonight. With room to spare.)

So crank those Christmas tunes. Turn it up! Get jiggy with it! Rock around that Christmas tree! And I’m leaving the comments on – so if you have any suggestions for Christmas songs I simply must hear, please let me know! (P.S. If your recommendation mentions buying Christmas shoes or Celine Deon singing in Spanish, please don’t send me a mix CD for Christmas.) (And if you want to see my Peggy Lee impression or Katie’s Faith Hill impersonation, stop on by!)