What a crappy Christmas.

Yes, please let me explain the title of this particular post. You see, each year, the day after Thanksgiving, you won't see the WildCards out amongst the deal shoppers. But you'll see us up just about as early. Because, after a 364-day wait, it's finally here:

Christmas Decorating Day!

Boxes upon boxes and bins upon bins and even more bags are carried, shuffled, and tossed into the kitchen from the depths of dusty and dangerously high garage shelves. As we unpack the abundance of sparkly and twinkly things, we find holiday treasures from years past. The Rastafari-type ornament we bought in Jamaica–our honeymoon destination. The bright-red yarn garland made by my mom while she was in college (now in several long and short pieces). The collection of Santas–oh, so many wonderful Santas!–given to us by my generous mother-in-law. A stunning traditional Christmas quilt, given to me by prolific quilter and fantastic all-around woman, Nancy J. Martin, to commemorate my 10th year of working for her company. All Christmas heirlooms I cherish.

And then, to Brett and Jack's delight, we unearth it. The Christmas decoration that has been in our family for at least a decade. Each year we carefully unwrap it from the tissue we pack it in. Then we carry it joyfully to the place where it graces our holiday home each year.

And where does this mysterious decoration spend its holiday, you ask?

On top of the toilet tank. Tucked inside the Kleenex box.

Yes. It's Mister Hankey. The Christmas Poo.

(Thought I'd share the first photo, just as Jack had left Mister Hankey one morning on the bathroom counter. And as you can tell from this month's blog banner, when Jack isn't costuming himself, he is costuming anything that will let him.)

Jack was so excited to see Mister Hankey after one long year of waiting. He immediately shared the delights of Mister Hankey with Charlie. Then, Jack began teaching Charlie how to say Mister Hankey's proper name.

I caught one of their 18-second rehearsals in an audio file.

Mister Hankey

(If clicking on "Mister Hankey" above doesn't work for you, try right-clicking and choosing "Open link in new window.")

Jack has been very persistent with his lessons. Charlie, a willing student, has practiced a lot. I'm proud of their team effort. And Brett? Well, he says I'm the coolest mom on the block. "I'll bet no other family on the block has a stuffed piece of poo in their bathroom during Christmas." I think he's right.

Funny how family traditions are established. How they evolve and flourish. I wasn't expecting a tradition of this sort for our little family. But it's a tradition nonetheless, born unique and strange and funny. Like any other family's traditions. It's ours. I'll take it.

Although we'll pack Mister Hankey away come New Year's Day, he'll always be a part of our holidays. He's found a place in our hearts. He's found a home in our bathroom. But luckily, not in our noses. Mister Hankey smells just like any other plush toy that has been well-loved.

Thank goodness that's part of the tradition, too.