The lovely Isitjustme has recently been lamenting the fact that her oldest child has friends that no longer believe in Father Christmas. Worse, one of the children was actually told by a parent that Father Christmas doesn’t exist!! What would possess a parent to tell such a horrible lie to their child is beyond me, but I do sympathise with Isit on this matter. #1 is hurtling towards 13 at the speed of light, and Hubby and I both wonder how many years of family Christmases we have left before the wonder and magic evaporate and we’re left trying to drag two unwieldy teenagers out of their respective pits in time to perch them reluctantly in front of a turkey dinner (worst case scenario, granted).
I know he’s mine, but #1 is a lovely chap: a gangly bundle of razor wit, he’s kind of the ‘mad professor’ of the family; speed reading a new book in one night and insisting on telling you the whole plot in one frenzied school run conversation. He’s a ball of endearing irreverence, all wrapped up with a silly laugh and more mad conversation than you can shake a stick at. I just cannot imagine him as a sullen, spotty teenager.
#2 will probably always believe in Father Christmas, mostly because he’s taken our ‘if you don’t believe you don’t receive’ mantra so much to heart. This is mostly as a result of the pure terror of waking up on Christmas morning to an empty stocking. Currently nursing his 756th injury of the year (running, caught leg in cricket nets, fell and jammed knee onto concrete…yada yada), our little Captain Dangerous is SO gorgeously smiley and affectionate that I have visions of those glowering teenage years completely passing him by and him somehow morphing straight from childhood into a version of Mad Uncle A (who probably still gets visits from Santa even though he’s 41).
Still, this year, I shall take Isit’s advice to heart and, as me Mam did for us, fill the house with warmth, laughter, the scent of cinnamon and mulled wine, scrumptious food and glittering decorations and enjoy every wide-eyed moment of wonder, every ‘Mum! Look what I got!’, even #2’s dreaded 6am wake-up call. I’ll cry when they sing carols in the choir, let #1 pop the champagne, even though he’s likely to take someone’s eye out, and will watch Hubby’s pyromaniacal attempts to set the pudding alight with an indulgent smile, because as my much loved Grandma Maudie used to say: ‘Christmas is for the kids really, isn’t it’.
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Comment by Isitjustme? — November 22, 2007 @ 7:23 pm
Comment by englishmuminireland — November 23, 2007 @ 11:45 am
Comment by Coastal Aussie — November 23, 2007 @ 4:23 pm
Comment by SUSAN B — November 24, 2007 @ 9:09 am
Knowledge is the key. If you need the answer to something consult the internet - and no better place than “How stuff works”
http://christmas.howstuffworks.com/santa-elf.htm
Comment by 5h4mr0(k — November 27, 2007 @ 5:40 pm
Comment by Natalie — November 28, 2007 @ 10:06 am
Nats: Thank you darling. Kind as ever. They have these great Christmas tree farms here where you get to wander about and choose your tree, then the man with the chainsaw comes and you all shout: ‘timberrrrrrr!’ as it falls. We’ll be there Saturday picking a little beauty. Ooh I’ve got that Feast. I’ll have a look, see if it’s the same one. x
Comment by englishmuminireland — November 28, 2007 @ 11:29 am