Braking is essential.

Lisa in a bubble.

For the kids, holidays started the week before Christmas, which meant a great affront to nerves and fitness of their mother. Granny took care of her grandchildren on Monday morning; we had their skating class planned for the afternoon. Alas, a youngling at the cash register said that there were no classes, and began to ring up our tickets. I pointed out that kids had free entrance and I had four more slots on my permit; thus he charged us five bucks each for skates. It threw me off, but he said price went up for the holidays. What can you do; I paid fifteen dollars and we went skating. Kids were disappointed that their class was off, but as soon as I managed to explain that it did not matter and that we can enjoy it on our own, their teacher showed up in the rink and began to fence off their section.

So I took our tickets and went to complain to the office — on the day of class, even kids should have their skates free. The girls in the office rolled their eyes and soon identified the youngling as Justin, saying that he's always confused; they refunded my money. It looks like the pre-Christmas chaos has arrived in the rink as well.

We got invited to Margo's birthday party to Santa Cruz on Tuesday. It was a skating party (again) — but with roller skates. I was quite interested: I stood on in-lines once in my life before — about fifteen years ago in Vienna — and I remember my horror when the bike path began sloping down and curving. I hoped that there were no slopes and curves in a covered skating hall.

And indeed, pleasantly creaking hardwood floor was quite flat. The whold affair invoked very retro impression, even the lady at the register looked right out of a fifties' movie. It surprised me that they were renting classic, four-wheel skates. Tom was surprised, too, especially since he assumed that knowing how to ice-skate, he would know how to use rollers. I paid extra and rented in-lines. Tom got better by then, but Lisa refused such a wobbly model and insisted to march in her stable four-wheelers.

Dig into a plastic pizza.

Tom and Jack exploring circles.

I had much fun roller-skating; I seemed to be one of the few childish adult, who did not get lured off the floor by coffee and pastries and chit-chat — I just could not resist the magic of the old hall. Especially since they played hit of my youth, like ABBA.

For Wednesday, girls from Redwood Shores and I planned a get-together, but it all fell apart and only Blanka and I and our children ended up at Children's Discovery Museum. Weather was supposed to be ugly and we had to direct our five-member pack to some action. Fortunately, Nejedlí's kids are rednecks, too, and they gladly participated in the whole thing — i.e. including a light rail ride. Every train is an experience for Tom, especially since we mostly use our car everywhere.

We have not been to the museum for at least half year, and thus it felt new again. Tom and Jack were tasked with staying together and showing up at a meeting spot, should we get separated. Blanka and I hoped to keep together the female part of the pack. We started with the proven bubbles, and when the girls and Jack grew tired of it, I took them to Bob the Builder; Tom stayed with the bubbles some more. Then Blanka took Noemi upstairs into a toddler section and I released the boys into circle expositions, while trying to watch Lisa and Eliška. At half past eleven I herded my group to the bathrooms, continuing with lunch. Then we had to go to the pizza place. I don't see what interests the kids at a plastic pizzeria; about hundred thousand times I had to order from the menu and let them prepare so many pizzas I never ate in my whole life. Tom claims that the pizzeria is the best of the whole museum; I just don't know.

Last attraction of the museum — water.

Even Santa's reindeer get something to eat.

Eventually I managed to drag the chidren out of the plastic restaurant, by promising to take them splashing. We leave the water play to the end of our museum tour, for if they get too soaking wet, I change them into sweats for the way home. Everything went according to a plan — the kids got incredibly wet (Noemi put her head under water, she shows talent!) and then I talked them into going. We had spent three hours at the museum and I was drained of all energy — probably from the racket and dither of a large count of little people.

Blanka and her kids stayed over for tea (Blanka) and snacks (kids); Nicolas arrived for a play-date with Tom. I managed this one, too — when I finally forced my awfully merry and perky kids to their beds, I drove out shopping to Costco. You know, the stuff I actually wanted to do in the morning, but then I noticed the completely jammed not only the parking lot, but even the access lanes. I decided that in order to maintain my own sanity I would not risk mingling with holiday crowds and shop just before closing time. It was still a bit edgy, but at least there was no stampede.

On Thursday I wanted to take kids and Sid climbing, but when I saw their un-enthusiastic faces, I opted for climbing on my own. Instead, I took the kids skating in the afternoon. I also risked a trip to a grocery store, where I caused a traffic accident. People in their Christmas trance drove around like freshly un-earthed zombies, and the parking lot in front of the store looked totally full (every lane sporting three or four cars waiting for somebody to leave). I figured I drive around and park BEHIND the stores. Poor chap in a truck in the line for an intersection wanted to make room so that I could drive past, and he backed into the car behind him. Only one of many, who wanted to be DECENT, and it spoilt his Christmas!

On Friday morning I made a salad, Hippo had a mission to get "some fish". He got back before food-crazy crowds got too heavy. By noon, Tina arrived, cutting my, granny's and Tom's hair. A bit non-traditional on Christmas Eve, I know, but Tina just happened to be in San Jose and so we all turned beautiful for the festive evening. Afternoon was in the mood of fairy-tales, and Tom said that they had to clean up in the room with the Christmas tree, so that "Santa would not stumble over stuff", which I supported.

Tom got a train.

Lisa liked the owl and plastic shoes the best.

After dinner, kids rushed to pour reindeer feed on our front lawn; Tommy was anxious whether it was too early for Santa, but it was not — before we managed to get back into the house, a huge pile of presents had materialized under the tree. Lisa receive a Lego corral with horses, but she was probably most impressed by her new flimsy plastic shoes with a high heel, and a plush owl. She said she wrote a letter to Santa asking for one at school, and so it seems Santa included their school wishes as well. Tom nodded that it must be so, for he received TWO boxes of trains — and he requested a train on each location (school + home), and perhaps Santa understood it as separate wishes. We tried to suggest that maybe the reason was to get him enough rails and freight cars, but who are we to question Santa's motives.

By nine the kids were ready to collapse, so we chased them to their beds. They said that these were the best Christmas in the world, so well it went. On the twenty fifth, Tom was ordered to not get up, and not run his trains before seven thirty, and he obeyed (to the minute). Then they long played, in their pajamas, and a general relaxation ensued. I even managed to have a nap — then we packed ourselves into our bus and zig-zagged between crashed cars to Suchýš. At first I thought that Suchýš became one of the blessed (being poor of spirit etc.), for he could not think of anything better than inviting all families, including those with little children, into his two-bedroom apartment. Apparently I underestimated him — there was a pile of artificial snow in the living room, which made all juniors besides themselves with joy (I don't know how joyful were Suchýš and Alex, for the snow turned up subsequently everywhere — in their bed, in the bathroom, in the kitchen). Tom and Jack soon, being busy with less infantile play (they assembled some Lego), left for the quiet of the bedroom, out of range of the common racket, where the rest of the kids stayed. After an hour we signaled retreat and moved a block away to Rýzl's for dinner. This turned out to be a family affair. I was amazed at the speed with which the foursome of junior liquidated a bag of cream puffs, after which they all assembled on a couch and watched Ninja Turtles. Everybody was exhausted from the celebration. Time had come to set out on a trip.