9 blocks of cream cheese in the fridge?
Someone's having a Christmas party.
We've got enough cream cheese and bacon to make Paula Deen make her O-face. And why shouldn't we? There was no party last year. There was only ketamine and uncertainty and Clorox wipes.
There most certainly was no immune system.
Our annual Christmas party is a cookie swap, and it's Dan's kind of shindig. Seriously, it's the one night of the year where he can eat as many cookies as he can fit in that gut of his from 5 pm to midnight. Every kid needs a night like that, unless they are going to puke. Which is what I know a lot of kids do after leaving our house after all-you-can-eat-cookie-night.
And there's sure to be a lot of non-cancer fun. Will someone bounce a ball off of the television, knocking over a candle which will then hit a glass of red wine that will spill onto the couch? Will our playroom live to see another day after hosting fifty children and their cookie-crusted fingers? Will someone who is potty training pee on a batch of 3-dozen perfectly delicious cookies?
These things may or may not have happened at past parties. But they did.
Hey, if my biggest problem is a broken television, a small fire, a medium-sized stain, a large mess, and some violated cookies, I'll take it.