Are donations tax-deductible if they're mumbling through the duct tape?

Today, as I got the kids ready for school, a question stuck in my mind like a sand spur in a baby's diaper. 

Are donations to orphanages still tax-deductible when they're squirming in the trunk and trying to mumble through the duct tape?

No biggie today, just the normal morning junk. Within four minutes of waking up, li'l Blondie has an ear ache and a stomach ache, claims that I put her shoes on upside down, and has been spiritually dishonored by the seams on her socks. The seam on the toe of your socks? Well, that's her wire hangers button. 

"STWIPES! You put the stwipes on my toes! You can't do that! You ah wuining my wife!"

Rae-Rae is downstairs eating Cheerios in his pajama pants...two minutes before we're supposed to leave. 

Bubby, bless his heart, is trying to be good and get ready, but his incessant need to confess on his siblings' behalf slows down his daily preparation. 

Rae-Rae's Christmas Winter celebration in his class was this morning, and it went really well. You can learn a lot about kids when you sit back and watch them around other kids. 

I walk in about 30 minutes before the party to help set up, and as soon as I walk in the door, 25 children are screaming at me. 

"Feliz Navidad! Aw....."

Have you ever seen 'Big Daddy' with Adam Sandler, where they waste the good surprise on Adam Sandler when he walks into his buddy's surprise party? Well, today I was a middle-aged Jewish comedian. 

Their teacher had gone down the hall to her child's party, and apparently I was supposed to be her.

I couldn't help but laugh at those beautiful Spanish words. They bring back happy memories of when Rae-Rae was little, and he'd run around the house bellering "Police got me down! Police got me down! I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas...."  I used to hate the song, but now?  Not so much.

The party was a hoot, though. The little offensive one I wrote about yesterday turns out to be a really annoying kid. His mom and little sister were there and extremely friendly. Him? Very annoying, but they were really nice, which proves my point:  I'm not prejudiced against their cultural identity. No more than I'm prejudiced against any other smart-mouthed, sassy pants 8-year-olds. 

But I gnawed on some really useful morsels of momdom during this little celebration. 

1. Rae-Rae actually does like to read. (If I sat beside the annoying kid, I'd probably read a lot, too.)
2. Eight-year-old boys are demented. Apparently, the boys have been spending their recess time throwing each other off of the monkey bars while singing 'Wrecking Ball.' 
3. Just because a kid's skinny doesn't mean they don't eat. I saw a 22-pound boy that's taller than me eat 7 pounds of Doritos without so much as a belch. 
4. All children lie, not just mine. Dorito boy sat there and told a group of adults that he hadn't eaten in three days because his mom doesn't feed him on days when she works. As his class mates pointed out that he'd eaten snack that morning, and snacks and lunches every day that week, he twerked his claim to say "well, except for that."  
5. There are four girls in his 3rd grade class that are taller than I am. I'm very excited about this.
6. Girls begin acting like drama-infused, eye-rolling teenagers some time before 3rd grade. 
7. At their elementary school, wires frequently get crossed. I'm just glad it wasn't me that sent my kid to school in pajamas the day before pajama day. 
8. Other parents are afraid of large groups of young children, too. By the time these hyperactive Christmas ninjas were finished with the juice, cookies, candy canes, and chips, three of us moms had promised a visiting dad that we were sympathizers and would have his back if the prosecution claimed his actions were premeditated. 
9. Pretzels topped with Rolo's and M&M's might be the 2013 Pinterest Pin of the Year.
10. Rae-Rae's teacher also takes random trips to Wal-Mart at odd hours just to enjoy a walk by herself. 

So, to everybody celebrating the holidays with their human pinata offspring, Merry Christmas! Chanukah Sameach! Blow Southerners! Quack Quack, Mr. Robertson. I salute you for standing up for your beliefs and not being afraid of being called a judgmental meanie pants. Go ahead...call the Prime Minister of Djibouti a hamster smuggling bone bag. It's your prerogative. 

I leave with you today two quotes that seem to ring loud and clear, given the headlines and emergence of whiny-lipped thumb suckers today.

"I don't know what to say, except it's Christmas and we're all in misery." (Ellen Griswold, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.)

"Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me."

I'm pretty sure I'll be charged with a hate crime for that one.