Dooce readers are familiar with the myriad items her dog will balance on his head given the appropriate promised reward. It's not an unusual urge -- most of us with pets have, at one time or another, thought it cute to decorate them. In my experience, though, Chuck is extremely unusual in how well he tolerates it.

When we opened our seasonal decor boxes on Saturday, nestled atop the North Pole Village set were two pairs of antlers, a Santa hat with a tie, a ridiculous plush of the man himself with chin strap, and four jingle-bell ankle cuffs. Kucha and Angel were interested in the contents of the boxes, but they almost certainly recognized these. There's no other way to explain the sudden distance the girls put between the living room and themselves.

Being evil pet parents, we of course had to make them model for us. Kucha didn't mind the hat or the antlers, actually ... she probably figures if she could put up with a muzzle for six months she can do a hat, which after all does not impede her bread-ingesting ability. It was in slipping the bracelets on her that she became nervous. With ultimate trepidation she tiptoed around the room, her eyes clearly conveying the sentiment "What the hell did I do?" They might as well have been shackles.

Angel didn't want any part of any dress-up games. Sometimes we can get her to wear the hat, but when Sed strapped on Old Man Claus to Angel's head, that was another story. It took my little girl no time at all to pull that thing into her mouth and start gnawing. Unfortunately, she neglected to remove the strap first, creating a sort of perpetual, undroppable chew toy.

Here's how you can tell we're going to be great parents: Our immediate response to the fear, the anger, the struggles against the clothes? Laughter. We're so getting coal in our stockings.