I’m never sure when to wish someone a Merry Christmas at this time of year. I don’t want to seem rude and not wish them a Merry Christmas, but nor do I want to seem to be rudely breaking off the conversation to wish them a Merry Christmas and then be on my way. This generally results in me saying “Thanks, you too” once they have already gotten in first. This seems some how a cop out to me. Although why I’m worrying about a Christian holiday yadda yadda also mystifies me.
While chatting to my son Nigel Junior (not his real name) yesterday he said that his sister Sarah-Jane (not her real name) had opened some of the presents under the Christmas tree. (Yes, it has a big star on top I’m not really a good atheist at this time of year, but it’s tradition!) So he went off to tell Nigel Senior (not his real name) who came in and took all the presents away, she’d had so much fun she’d opened everyone’s, and put them in the cupboard with the pressies we hadn’t put under the tree. Mainly because when you are four a week is such a long time to wait to get your hands on such lovely shiny things. Anyway this morning I re-wrapped the presents but couldn’t find one for Sarah-Jane from Uncle Brother and Aunty Sister-in-law (not their real names). So I asked her where it was. “I opened it” she told me bluntly, clearly thinking [but not saying] ‘silly mummy’. “Okay”, I said, “then what was in it?” “Bubble stuff” she said “and it’s in the car, Daddy’s car” [for the benefit of Mummy’s with clearly little brain]. So I went out to the car and retrieved the book that had also been part of her pressie, but the bubbles had gone. Then on the way back to the house the story started to come out about taking the bubbles down the street and everyone having a turn. As it turns out she had opened her present in the morning before going down the street with Nigel Senior and he had just assumed that she had found leftovers from a party. So now all the presents have been hidden and won’t be coming out until the kids are safely asleep on Christmas Eve. We really should just call it Giftmas.
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My mini-Nigel is just about to turn three, so this is the first Christmas he has been properly aware of, so I completely understand the difficulty of the long week. No it’s not tonight that Santa comes, it’s still a few sleeps more. No, Santa is not coming while you have your nap this afternoon. My main worry is he seems to think that Santa stays for a visit and helps you open your presents.
It’s a long week here also, and, I’ve found, apparently far longer when you’re eight than when you’re four. The Lad keeps storming around saying “I NEED TO HAVE MORE FUN. THEN CHRISTMAS WILL COME FASTER.” (time flies, &c.)
He has shaken all his gifts to figure out which are books (and which is the -Ology book) and which are Lego, but we’re lucky enough to have never had a premature opening.
Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker sitting under the Xmas tree.
Vader: I know … what you’re getting … for Xmas.
Luke: How do you know that?
Vader: I felt … your presents.
Miss 12 is the only one who has wrapped any presents as yet in this house and Mr 13 is desperate to know what’s in the parcel his sister has put under the tree for him. He even resorted to asking Grandma for hints (Grandma took Miss 12 Christmas shopping). Last year the dog showed quite an interest in all the presents, not least because the kids kept squeezing the one for her – a squeaky toy – and then hiding it at the back of the pile.
Not Quite One doesn’t yet understand presents, but he does understand toys, so when I picked up his ebay-ed wagon of blocks, he had unloaded and chewed the blocks before I had a chance to get them away from him. That and travel probably mean there won’t be the single big present opening moment for him.