Dead weight.

Last night, St. Nick visited our house and filled the kids' stockings with chocolates and other goodies.

We waited until the kids were asleep to take care of business. It took a little while to get everyone settled since we'd had an exciting night stringing popcorn, watching Christmas specials and drinking orange soda.

So when Mad Dog and The Deuce burst through our bedroom door in a frenzy at 5:45 a.m., I was a little groggy to say the least.

"Mom! Mom!" Deuce exclaimed. "He came! Come and see!"

"What? What is it?"

"St. Nick! He came! There's something in our stockings. Let's go!!"

"Wait, let's tell Mark."

"No," she said. "There's no time!" She had the same sense of urgency as if the house was on fire. "Let's go! Let's go NOW. Besides, he's impossible to wake up!"

Sure, Mark can be a little slow before his first cup of coffee, but that's no excuse to leave him for dead on such an important morning.

"Now, c'mon. We've got to wake him."

Deuce groaned. "Fine."

Ultimately, Mark wasn't all that tough to wake. In fact, he barely slowed us down from the candy canes and chocolates waiting downstairs. Still, to a kid, seconds feel like hours when stuffed stockings are concerned.

It's funny. To a kid on St. Nick's, any one of us grown ups are just dead weight, despite the important role we play.