I got a spoiled brat for Christmas, and I couldn't be happier.

Nobody likes a spoiled brat.  Nobody cares for someone who always gets their way.

When Christmas rolls around, though, and you haven't seen your child for about a month, well, suddenly it gets a little more tough to say, "No."

I try, as a general whole, to not spoil the little guy.  I try to make sure he practices patience and exercises good manners.  I don't let him always have his way and he firmly believes my favorite word is , "No."  As a rule of thumb, he thinks a good way to impersonate me is to say the following: "Put your hands in your pockets.  No you can't have that.  Don't interrupt."  

This Christmas, although we are celebrating it a little late, is all about getting him what he wants. He wanted the dog to join us for Christmas, and Bear is laying down close by.  It seems his every wish is simply my command.  

I am not completely powerless, however.  I still was able to say, "No, you can't have another cookie."  I'm rather proud of myself for that one.  On the flip side, I have been here for only a day and I have done my best to spoil the little guy rotten.  

And I'm dang proud of it.