Parenting Ad Absurdum   Santa Trauma   One evening last week,
after a crash that sounded louder and distinctly more glass like
than usual, my husband and I raced up the stairs to the kids’
bedroom and discovered that that half of the light fixture had
fallen from the center of the ceiling to the carpet below. The
light fixture was old, like most things in our house, so we
speculated that it had perhaps overheated, and herded the kids
down to our bedroom, in case the rest of the fixture were to
come down before the morning. The kids were understandably
upset, but after some water and some hugs, my three-year old,
Alex, was bouncing and smiley again. Jack, my five-year old, was
not. He gasped and sobbed and shook, and as we tried to calm him
down, I heard Alex say, “so, there were stuffed animals flying
around…” Ah. Perhaps the light fixture had not actually
overheated. Seeing the distress on his older brother’s face,
Alex loyally changed the subject to sugar cookies, but I, the
slow-witted mama, asked carefull