We no longer have anyone in our house who believes in Santa Claus.  I blame Judy Blume.

Last week I was somewhere with our older son when my husband texted me a stream of swear words.  He said the younger son was listening to the audio book of Superfudge by Judy Blume.  Part of it talks about Santa Claus and how it’s really your mom and dad, blah blah blah and dearest son apparently heard that, stopped the CD, backed it up and listened again.  Three times.

I laughed and told my husband he’s 7 years old and can’t believe forever.  Husband waited for son to come in and confront him but it didn’t happen.

Until we were in the middle of Target a couple of days later. 

“Is Santa Claus real?” he blurted out loudly.

I checked around to make sure there were no unsuspecting 3-year olds lurking and looked at my husband.  The expression on his face was resigned and sad, which made me laugh.

Our older son piped up:  “I can tell him the answer!”  (I think keeping that secret has been eating away at him like crazy for the year he’s known the truth.)  I was in the middle of putting something back on the shelf or picking something up, not sure which, and really had no idea what to say. 

So our 9-year-old broke the sad news to our 7-year-old there in the middle of the cat litter aisle at Target.  And what did the younger one do?  Shrugged and went on his way, taking his job of pushing the cart very seriously. 

My husband, never one to let anything go underdiscussed, went on to explain that believing in Santa is like believing in magic and that he himself still ”believes.”  He told him Christmas will still be just as special and as fun because it’s the spirit of giving, sharing, yada yada. 

Personally, what keeps going through my head is that Christmas will be CHEAPER!!! 

I remember when I figured out Santa wasn’t real.  It was Christmas day and I was maybe 6.  I couldn’t freaking believe my parents had put one over on me for so many years!  Our son hasn’t said much…poor guy, he’s already dealing with moving to a new state, new school, trying to make new friends….and now he finds out the big guy in red is a hoax.  Sometimes being 7 sucks.  (But don’t feel too sorry for him because he won’t hesitate to tell you in detail all the injustices in his life.)

I’m over at Writeminded today, asking for enlightenment on NASCAR so if you’ve got anything to convince me, stop by.

Also have a sick kid home with me today, plus clouds, so I think a nap is a necessity.

Happy Friday!

So the big moving adventure is becoming less of an adventure and more a thing of the past as we settle into our new city and get to know the area. I’ve found the grocery stores (can even sometimes find what I need in them!), have a chiropractor and a doctor, know how to get to my favorite stores plus the mall and the downtown shopping area, have worn a trail to the closest Borders. What I haven’t figured out is the radio stations.

Yeah, I know that sounds minor, but while I’m totally open to exploring the city, discovering new places, restaurants, stores and favorites of everything, I miss MY radio stations!!!

I miss the way I had my car stereo set, miss knowing exactly what kinds of music I could expect from each preset. We’ve been here for four weeks, and I’m still trying to find enough stations that play the kinds of music I like to fill up 6 buttons. Tragic.

I just want MY stations.

6 stations. Good music. That’s all I ask. (Well, actually, since I’m asking…fewer damn commercials would be much appreciated….)

(Note to parents and husband: a car converter thing for my iPhone/iPod would be an excellent birthday gift! In case you’re looking for ideas… )

What did people do before they could carry their entire life in their pocket on their cell phone? Seriously, half an inch thick, not more than 5 inches long, and if I lost my iPhone I would CRY. (This coming from the girl who didn’t get all that concerned when I lost my wallet in July and then my purse in August. Annoyed with myself, yes, definitely, but once I canceled my credit cards, it turned into a laughing matter, much to the husband’s irritation.)

If I lost my phone, though, I’m not sure I would be able to recall my name (or my new phone number, come to think of it.) I’d lose 400-some photos that I really need to save on my laptop. Thirty or so ebooks that, as far as I know, I don’t have copies of anywhere else. Some of my favorite games (Text Warp, Sudoku, Poker, and Pee Monkey to name a few.) My instant weather forecast and stock report for days when I need to reassure myself that yes, the economy is slowly creeping back and isn’t going to suck forever.

My Shazam program that lets me find out what any song on the radio is at any time. (Because DJs STILL don’t tell you that ONE song you hear and love.)

My bug zapper (for real…and it works), my pedometer (you know, in case I ever get some exercise again) and my 24/7 link to, well, everyone else, on Facebook and Yahoo IM.

Ack, and I can’t forget my GPS and map program…without it, I would never get anywhere in my new city. Oh, and my calendar, which is the only place I “write” down my appointments. My calculator, my alarm clock (I no longer use the annoyingly hard-to-tune clock on my nightstand) and my weight loss program, you know, for days when I pay attention to what I eat.

And that doesn’t even include the most important functions…phone, email, ipod and internet.

Okay, panicking now. Just posting this feels like I’m tempting fate to make me lose my phone. Someone needs to create an app that will treat anxiety attacks brought on by the mere thought of losing one’s phone. And maybe one that will allow the phone itself to find its way back to me sans human help, should I accidentally leave it somewhere.

(And for the record, no, I am not receiving any commission from Apple for this post. Though maybe I should be….)

Please tell me there are others out there who have become so phone-centric. If not, I need an intervention.

I woke up with the Jordin Sparks song, Battlefield, playing through my mind this morning and I know now, I should’ve seen it as a warning.

What’s the big drama in the Knupp house? Are you ready for this?

Picture Day.

Younger son is opposed (vehemently would be an appropriate word) to “dressing nicely” and he’s been pitching a fit all week about the upcoming event. I knew there would be an issue so I have calmly, nonchalantly mentioned that they would be expected to wear…wait for it…a shirt with a collar, ie the one each of them picked out willingly for the first day of school (and have only worn once.) Yes, this battle is over about 2 inches of material around the neck.

So when younger son appeared in the kitchen this morning, I expected a scowl along with the golf shirt. Was pleasantly surprised when he very cheerily said, “Morning, Mom.” Until I noticed he was wearing a plain red tee with a blue “ringer” collar. His attempt at a shirt with a collar, no doubt. (Did I mention he’s SEVEN???)

I very gently mentioned that the shirt he had on was wrinkled and that would show in his picture. He said the collared shirt he was supposed to wear was also wrinkled. (I’m here to tell you that child could care less about wrinkles. I’d be surprised if he actually noticed wrinkles.) I said, still treading very gently, that we would iron one to look nice and that it would be the one with the collar.

OHHHHHHHHH MELTDOWN!

Tears, refusal to eat breakfast, and I immediately called in my husband because I am not the most patient person on a good day at a good hour, but you add in the fact that it was before 8am and…. Let’s just say I know when to step aside.

So my husband gave him one of those calm but firm talks in a don’t-jack-with-daddy tone. I don’t know what he said because I was maturely slamming cupboards as I made lunches. End result was that dearest son went to the table and sat down, still wearing the T-shirt.

I’m not proud of what happened next. Or next after that. There was a giant guilt trip, a refusal to order his pictures, a threat to not let his picture be included with the large school banner that has everyone’s photo on it, a too-late reversal on son’s part, and an explosion on my part.

He relented, I went to find the iron and oh, what do you know, the iron hasn’t been unpacked yet because who in their right freaking mind needs an IRON???

End result: threw shirt into dryer with wet towel. Got out wrinkles. Got shirt on kid. Day off to a swimmingly fantastic beginning.

Again, I say…he is seven. Anyone know of a good boarding school because his teen years are going. To. Kill me.

I was in Kansas long enough that I’m pretty used to the weather patterns there, the seasons, the near lack of fall. Usually in Kansas, fall lasts for about a week, near the end of October, when the trees do their thing quickly before it freezes.

It turns out Wisconsin has a full fall seaon (or maybe it will be shortened by…*gasp* snow and winter but let’s not go there today, let’s just speak of happy things.) And it starts, well, before the calendar says it should start.

Already the leaves are changing here, and there’s a pile of fallen leaves under each tree. This picture was taken out my bathroom window this morning. Mid-September. NOT the end of October. You might not be able to tell that several of the leaves on this tree are yellow. There’s a better example down the street…half the tree is a beautiful shade of reddish-orange, but I usually have a steering wheel in my hands when I pass it.

Since fall is my favorite season, I’m liking this. What? Did you just utter something about the early winter I’ll be dealing with by, oh, the end of October or so? *covering ears with hands* Icanthearyou, Icanthearyou!

So…anyone else got fall? Or do you still have green leaves and the heat of summertime?

When I was in 11th grade, my English teacher gave us an assignment that I still think of from time to time. Dr. Mann was the best teacher I ever had and in addition to nurturing my writing, she frequently threw in philosophy to her lesson plan. This assignment combined both: we had to write a paper on whether people were fundamentally good or bad.

If I remember right, I chose “good.” I have no idea what examples I used to back that up back then, but I stand by my original opinion now and have several recent examples to prove it.

The first happened in D.C. when I was at the Romance Writers of America national conference. After the annual Harlequin party on Friday night, I woke up Saturday to realize…I’d left my wallet in the cab. A D.C. cab. And I had to fly home the next morning. Three hours of panicking, calling banks and credit cards to cancel everything, trying to track down the cab company on a long shot (ha! There are approximately 7,579 cab companies in D.C.) and having my husband fax my birth certificate so I’d have an easier time at the airport the next day, I went up to my room and noticed I had a message on the hotel phone. It was the cab driver. He’d found my wallet. And yes, though he was in Virginia, about an hour away, he would drive it back to me. He did and everything was there.

Then about a month ago, my family and I traveled from Kansas to Wisconsin to find a place to live. It was a stressful, flying trip and on the way home, being an airhead, I left my purse in the restroom of a truck stop along the highway. After trying to figure out the last place I’d had it and then tracking down the name and number, I called the place and found out that someone had turned my purse in. I was shocked and relieved. Until I realized that we were almost 2 hours away and retrieving it would mean an extra 4 hours of driving on a trip that was already going to take us 10-12 hours. *insert expletive here* I called back and asked the woman who answered if they could possibly ship it to me. She wasn’t happy about it but she agreed. I canceled all my cards, once again, just to be safe, and decided I’d believe it when I had the purse in my hands. Two days later, I held my purse in my hands.

The last two aren’t as dramatic, maybe, but are proof to me that there are very kind people here in Madison. The first was a doctor. Not normally my favorite-ist group of people (sorry, huge generalization there and maybe I’m learning it’s unfounded). I’d had a lab test and then met with this guy, who I knew nothing about, had just picked a practice off my insurance and dialed and then gotten “stuck” with him because the name I’d chosen was booked for the day. By the time we were done with the appointment, the results still weren’t available, so he told me he’d call in about a half hour to give them to me. Almost two hours later, I still hadn’t heard, and I was beginning to wonder, when the phone rang. It was the doctor. He DIDN’T have the results yet, but wanted to let me know he hadn’t forgotten me. They were just taking longer than expected. He called me himself to tell me that. Wow.

And the last example was Friday. I found a new chiropractor, who I was desperately in need of. Went in on Friday, had a good appointment, set another for this week, and took the print out of my screwed up back home. We were at dinner when I got a voice mail on my phone — apparently there was no signal in the restaurant. It was a local number and I couldn’t figure out who the heck would be calling me from Madison because, hello, I don’t know anyone in Madison. When we left the restaurant, I got my message. It was the chiropractor. A courtesy call to make sure my adjustment was okay and to see if I had any questions. If not, he’d see me this week. Again, wow. Friday night?

So. Those are my points A, B, C and D. I still believe, allllll these years later, that people are fundmentally good. Lots of them take wrong turns along the way but that’s not the point. I guess my point is that I’ve been really lucky lately to come into contact with some Really Good People and I wanted to spread the word that they’re out there.

How about you? How would you answer the essay question? Got anything to back up your answer lately? People who have surprised you in a good or bad way? Gone above and beyond what you expected? Tell me your answer to the question, are people fundamentally born good or bad, and you’ll be entered in a giveaway. The winner will receive a prize of 3 books, all 3 of them signed by the author: A Distant Magic by Mary Jo Putney, The Tycoon’s Pregnant Mistress by Maya Banks and Edge of Fear by Cherry Adair. Post before midnight Tuesday to enter. Winner will be announced here on Wednesday sometime.