Oh hey, I promise I did not die. I went on vacation and didn’t turn on my laptop, but now that I’m back and surrounded by wrapping paper and bored children and seventeen piles of laundry and dirty dishes, I thought it was the perfect time to update my blog with some belated content that some of you have already read but WHO CARES THIS IS MY BLOG REPEATS ARE TOTALLY ALLOWED. (PS, if you didn’t get one from me that’s because I probably forgot to do something dumb like ADD POSTAGE. Am total genius.)
With a little further ado, and maybe some teeth gnashing, the Reading and chickens family holiday letter:
Dear Friends or Family,
Happy Winter Solstice! (If this letter doesn’t get finished in time, please replace with “Happy President’s Day!”)
This year Kesh turned seven, finished first grade, and then, just like that, they expected him to start second grade. He is still not over the injustice. He is really into video gaming, Legos, the How to Train Your Dragon series of books, and Nerf guns, which he claims he’ll need in the zombie apocalypse. He is objectively, devastatingly handsome.
Sachi turned five at the end of October and is in pre-kindergarten, which is like kindergarten for dumb kids. He is doing very well. Sachi is into everything that his brother is into, except when his brother is not around, and then he’s into trains and McDonald’s Play Place and baking cookies and Clifford and school and vegetables. It’s too bad he’s contractually obligated to turn into a clone whenever Kesh comes home from school. He’s also objectively, devastatingly handsome. Most people think he looks just like his mother.
Gregg is on his zillionth year at That Place He Works, where things continue to be too boring for anyone to explain in a holiday letter, sorry. He really likes it there, except when he doesn’t. Since we didn’t include a photo of him, he has a beard and blond hair and green eyes and is tall and thin, like every other white guy in Seattle. Sometimes we take home the wrong guy, and only notice later when he’s asking for a different brand of beer than Gregg normally drinks, and have to go exchange him. His wife has made him start running regularly and he is annoyingly good at it and much faster than her already even though that’s not fair.
Shalini continues to work in the exciting world of online and not as online writing of things, as well as staying home with the boys and doing house-y things like eating brownies and reorganizing the fridge daily so no one can find the mayonnaise. She will make you a pie if you promise to never make her write about herself in the third person.
Malcolm T.* Dog is still a dog. He continues to enjoy Pupperonis and napping and attempting to be famous by getting his photo on Cute Overload.
We also have four chickens, but we can’t remember why anymore, because we hate them.
Congratulations on making it to the end, or, Hello Recycling Bin!
Love and Kisses and Hugs Without Any Hand Sanitizer At All,
Shalini, Gregg, Kesh, Sachi, Four Chickens Without Names Because Maybe We’ll Eat Them One Day and Malcolm T. Dog, Who Refused To Change His Last Name And Conform To Naming Traditions That Imply He Is A Thing That Can Be Owned**
*T. stands for “The”
**Except for his King County pet license, which explains that we own him, and he’s a thing