Teenaged boys, Gin (Djinn), and Captain Underpants

Santa made a boo-boo or at least she thinks she did. She didn’t mean to do it. (How many times have you heard your kids say this?) But she’s pretty sure she did. She sent some inappropriate material to some teenaged boy out there who now thinks Santa has lost her marbles. Here’s how it happened.

My grandson just discovered Captain Underpants. Dav Pilkey is the talented author who can make even the most reluctant seven year old reader sit up and take notice. The books are hilariously funny to anyone that age, as the title suggests. Now, I’ve almost completely crossed over to Kindle only, but Amazon has those 5 for 4 deals and Captain Underpants is part of the plan. Grandma had been working rather hard and deserved a present, too, so I ordered Thea Harrison’s Oracle’s Moon, a smexy book about a Djinn and the descendant of the Oracle at Delphi. Free book, free shipping; does life get any better than this?

The books arrived in plenty of time and like any good Santa should do the week before Christmas, I set it aside unopened. I know my failings. If I opened the package, I”d while away my time reading about a sexy djinn and then re-read those Captain Underpants books and laugh myself silly. (Yes, I confess. I’m the Grandma who would send her Grandson a once used book!) I had work to do and my elf had made himself scarce. He doesn’t mind the shopping, but he hates to wrap!

Here’s where we ran into a problem and you’ll notice I said we. In our house, all problems are shared. When things go right, I claim full credit.

My husband and I no longer buy presents for each other. Instead, we supply Christmas for those who would otherwise go without. This year, we ended up with a fistful of teenagers since most folks prefer to buy for the tots. Teenagers are people, too, and even if they have their doubts about St. Nick, they need to know that someone out there cares. So off the elf and I went, bring home a  sleigh full of jeans, hoodies, cute sweaters and Call of Duty t-shirts, plus various and sundry teenager treats.

It’s the week before Christmas and my kitchen is overflowing with unwrapped gifts and bags marked with each kid’s name and I’m holding a marathon, one man wrapping party. I always wrap everything in boxes because they’re easier to pack and deliver, but it’s the middle of the night and I’ve run out.  Ah-hah! The Amazon box will work. I’m too tired to read! I tore the label off and tore the tape away before realizing the box was too small. Not to worry. There are others in the garage (The elf is also the Never-throw-a-sturdy-box-away King).

You’ve already guessed the end, haven’t you? Tired and bleary eyed, I wrapped the last of the packages, using several Amazon boxes, and dropped the bags of Santa’s goodies off the next day. A day later and I’m ready to wrap the family gifts and yep! no Captain Underpants, no sexy djinn. Somewhere out there, a sixteen or seventeen year old young man got a big surprise under the Christmas tree and the elf quit his job and went to watch football after the tongue lashing from Santa.

Next year will be different. I’ll get an early start. (I say this every year, but have yet to manage it) Until then…

Merry Christmas to all and to all a Good Night

Post script: I was telling this to a friend and her ten year old, who was watching TV nearby, looked up and asked, “Isn’t it against the law to send Gin to a teenager.” Lord, I hope not!