I Was Swallowed By A Hippo

Castle life, Aga strife, slummy mummy, average wife

Santa: nil, Baby Jesus: 1

on December 15, 2013

Wise men and glitter fun

The turkey has been ordered, the Christmas cards are on their way around the world and the staircase has been garlanded.  There is still a big Christmas tree-sized hole in the hall but I’m trying not to nag Niall about it, even though this is his ONLY pre-Christmas task whilst I have written 150 Christmas cards, bought and wrapped all the presents (including my own from him), stressed myself silly about turkey and engaged the children in countless Christmas crafts involving glitter. I might allow myself a small nag*.

We have had several encounters with “Santa” this week, with varying degrees of delight and horror. India, aged 2, is justifiably terrified of the white bearded figure in red who has been popping up all over the place, and worst of all, at playgroup. The mere sight of him entering the hall, sack in hand, induced prolonged hysterics which would not even be stemmed by a present. She can not be bought. Her big sister faired slightly better in that she willingly accepted the gift but insisted on a go-between (me) and refused to make eye contact with the jolly fellow. Weirdly though, they both seem comfortable with the idea that he is going to enter the house on Christmas Eve via the chimney, scoff a mince pie, leave some gifts then bugger-off to re-join his sleigh and flying reindeer he left on the roof.

I’m starting to feel uncomfortable about the whole Santa-lie that we are forced to perpetuate, year on year until some cheeky gob-shite at school blurts out the fateful words, “it’s just your mum and dad”**. I hate the commercialism of Christmas that Santa reinforces and have started my own campaign to drill home the true meaning. The children love the nativity story and baby Jesus gets a lot of air time around here. Last year Zoë and I cuddled up to watch a film of the Christmas story, complete with circumcision, a traumatic birth scene and a gruesome beheading. It was screened a 2pm so I assumed it would be suitable for a nearly-3 year old. She thoroughly enjoyed it though so I’m hoping it will be on again.

The Christmas activities really snowball*** this week with the pinnacle being the school concert, complete with the nursery nativity and rendition of Five Tubby Snowmen. Zoë is playing an angel and I predict that I will be in pieces, either with laughter or tears or perhaps both. Term ends on Friday and then the excitement will really start to build. I mean my own, of course and I hope I won’t be burned out by the 25th and be too knackered to enjoy it. I will perhaps slow down with the glitter activities and focus on more important tasks such as getting the sprouts on and decorating the tree*.

Ten more sleeps!!!

**in my case it was my big sister. I can still recall the brief devastation followed by reluctant acceptance.
***see what I did there…


4 responses to “Santa: nil, Baby Jesus: 1

  1. Caroline says:

    150 cards, good work Mrs. We’re off to see Santa on his steam train next weekend, I suspect Grier may be less than friendly but as we’ll be in a train carriage I’m hoping not hysterical because I can’t just fling her off can I? I want garland pictures, sounds fun.

  2. Dave says:

    A few years ago, after our sone had grown up and began living on his own, my wife and I decided that we’d enjoy Christmas a lot more with the frantic desperate search for appropriate gifts to give each other. And you know what? we were right.

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