The Taylors in Europe

Long-time readers may remember from last year the Austrian story of the Krampus. Krampus is the demonic sidekick to St. Nicholas. While jolly old St. Nick hands out candy, Krampus beats naughty children with bundles of twigs.

Since then, I have felt that our American tradition of threatening lumps of coal that never seem to materialize no matter how horrid a child acts is somewhat weak when compared to the Austrian beatings. I was therefore thrilled beyond belief on our trip to Salzburg last month when I found chocolate Krampus (Krampi?) in the candy store, and naturally I bought several in a variety of sizes to put in the kids' stockings this Christmas. I packed them carefully into my overstuffed backpack for the trek back to Mannheim and then sent them on their way to Florida with the United States Postal Service.

Tonight I opened up my candy box and made a horrifying discovery. BOTH of my big Krampus got busted somewhere along the way:



Is there anything sadder than a broken demonic folk figure? The one bright spot is that we got to eat them, and my goodness were they ever tasty! Here's my dad with a Krampus head, just before he declared "Get thee inside me, Satan," and popped it into his mouth:



And in other Christmas news, my mom suffered a bout of temporary insanity and put up a tree while we were away at Disney. Do you know how much fun a Christmas tree is with 5 cats? Willis, Eddie, and Celia have all had multiple squirtings from the water bottle we're keeping handy. Oliver tried to taste it, and Lucy (the diabetic cat) enjoys lounging beneath it: