There were few, if any, kids there, but Sam did fairly well. He played with the Nativity set and looked at books. I had to remind him about nice manners a few times, but over all, things went well.
Of course, just when you feel like you have things under control, that's when the wheels fall off the bus.
I was visiting with a woman I'd grown up with and see about once a year when Sam keeps trying to talk to me. I turn to him and remind him, "When you want to talk, you say, Excuse me, Mom. And then you wait your turn."
Sam: Excuse me, Mom. Excuse me, Mom. Excuse me, MOM!!
Me: (turning from my conversation, a little exasperated): What, Sam?
Sam: I'm itchy.
Me: Ok. We'll go home soon and put on some lotion. (turn back to my conversation).
Sam: I'M ITCHY!
Me: Wait a minute, Sam. I'm almost done.
Sam: I'M ITCHY! MY BUTT IS ITCHY! I THINK YOU DIDN'T DO A GOOD JOB WIPING ME AND THERE IS SOME FLAT POOP STILL IN THERE, MOM!
Everyone in close proximity stops talking and looks at us.
Me: (pause. Turning back to my conversation). Um, ok. So, uh, good talking to you. We're, um, going to go now.
I think my new policy is going to be to decline all holiday invitations, but I'm really not sure we're going to be invited back next year.
For the record, I did an excellent job wiping him and there was absolutely no "flat poop" remaining. It was, as usual, his eczema. It's the Filipino-mother in me that makes me have to tell you this.