So, I was watching a cute little Christmas movie on TV last night, thoroughly exhausted after a seemingly simple circuit of the Madison area in the name of elfish behavior. Nick, having had no prior exposure to my fabled Christmas donkey, found himself immersed in the story—he proclaimed half-way through that so far it was just sad, and his interest had piqued to see how it could all possibly turn around.

Well, without giving it away (you'll just have to donate 22 minutes of your precious time to the cinematic brilliance of stop-motion animation if you're dying to know), I'll have to change the names a bit. Nestor makes it to....uh...Pethlehem, and is sought out by two individuals—Nary and Boseph. They wind up in a stable and The Zavior is born. I looked over at Vick (sorry, NICK) at the conclusion to gauge his reaction, and found him chewing the inside of his lip.

"I think it's all a ploy to sell books," he decides in his smart alecky tone.

—"What!? When have you EVER seen anything about Nestor in stores?" I'm gullible, my mother often said so too.

"No. Jesus."

I snorted into the cup between my hands and looked to my devout Christian boyfriend with barely concealed humor.