Generally, the children are fairly unhelpful in giving me and Santa ideas for what to buy them for Christmas. They tend to be very influenced by adverts. When Emilia was small and watching the advertisements for toys on TV, she would say, totally indiscriminately, after each one “I want that for my birthday, I want that for my birthday.” Even if I fast forwarded through the adverts, she would just speed up and run all the words together; “IwantthatformybirthdayIwantthatformybirthdayIwantthatformybirthday.” I admit the toys always seem way cooler on TV with their proper backdrops and extra props and figures that are always (NOT INCLUDED.)
Emilia thinks she’d like this puppy dog Cookie that she’s seen on TV – it probably eats a bone and poos, something like that to justify it’s £74.99 price tag.(For a stuffed toy – I ask you?) She won’t be getting it.
Emilia was doing something to wind me up recently and I came out with that old classic, I warned her to be careful she didn’t end up on Father Christmas’ Naughty List.
“What does that mean then?” she asked “will I get potatoes in my stocking?”
“Probably” I say.
Emilia responds defiantly “I LIKE potatoes.”
On Patrick’s Wish List this year is four rollerskates, two for his hands and two for his feet, that, or a Nintendo 3DS.
Sometimes though, the children do surprise you by coming up with something practical, feasible and in your price range. Charlie asked for “a waterproof and some seaweed”, Ben requested some new pants.
Rachel’s was the easiest though. When asked what she would like Santa to bring her, she answered simply “PRESENTS!” Now that we can do.
Over Christmas we went to Somerset to be with Mum’s family down there, just a small family gathering of 38 of us. We were due to stay in some beautiful newly built holiday houses that they own. Mum and I, and the children set off at 6am on the 23rd to beat the traffic. I sent a text to forewarn my cousin of our unusually early ‘check in’. I got the reply ‘Your accommodation is still being built but should be ready on your arrival.’
It was wonderfully warm when we arrived there and the modern glass log burner was cheerily burning away. Not your traditional fireplace for Santa to come down into the house, but maybe the children wouldn’t question it. They were so excited to be there, I was confident they wouldn’t notice.
Mark and I amused ourselves on Christmas Eve though, envisaging coming down on Christmas morning to find Father Christmas trapped like a contortionist in the all glass box having managed to squeeze down the tiny flue.
We nearly got away with it, but Patrick did say, after it was all over, on Christmas night.
“Mummy, how did Santa get down that small chimney?” To which we replied, that answer to everything : “Christmas magic, Patrick, Christmas magic!”
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