Am I the only one who doesn't know what to do with the wrapped Christmas gifts until December 25?
Under the tree, you say? Okay, and how do you then stop Little Man 4 and Little Man 2 ripping into them before the big day?
My Christmas tree is the fake kind this year because of the havoc wreaked (wrought?) upon the real one last year. And even so, the poor thing looks all dishevelled and depleted of decorations which I keep finding around the house. A fallen angel here, a discarded baby Jesus there. Seriously, is nothing sacred to these children?
Adding to my woes is the distinct lack of storage in this house. My bedroom cupboards are stuffed with presents and the overflow has been hidden in the following fashion:
No, my children have not discovered what lies beneath. Yes, they may be, perhaps, a little slow.
Then there is the Santa issue. Luca had decided he was not a fan. This 'fear of the fat man' was not new to me having grown up with the family legend of my older brother being so completely terrified of old Saint Nick that the pillow case for presents was left outside the front door with a note explaining that while the gifts were gratefully accepted, Santa was, at no time, permitted to enter the house.
We chatted a bit about his fears. A scene from Shrek The Halls of a giant and malevolent Santa eating the Gingerbread Man's girlfriend had not helped matters. However, when I explained that I'd been speaking with the father of Christmas and that he thought Luca was pretty awesome and wanted to give him some totally brilliant presents, I managed to not only get the child to pose for a photo with Santa (obligatory shopping centre ritual, no?) but it seems they've developed something of a bond….
So Christmas. I love it. I especially love that we're not going anywhere or seeing anyone. A little feast for four (plus the Little Lady no doubt making her presence felt with some well-placed kicks and perhaps a spot of heartburn).
In other news, happy anniversary to me and my love. 12 years. Not bad.