It’s beginning to look a lot like Chrisssssstmas

Hello all of you. Been driven demented by Roy Wood and Slade piped at impolite levels in shopping malls yet? No..? Then you’ve either done EVERYTHING online and not just the gift shopping (ie you haven’t left the house at all for anything) or you’re an 24th December Supermarket Sweeper. Despite being female, I detest shopping when I actually HAVE to. In fact, I don’t like doing ANYTHING I’m told. I know that’s neither attractive nor productive, but I can handle the truth if you can. I can consume with the best of em, but to a deadline and en masse. No thanks.  The internet was made for folks such as I, and I HEART the web. But I suspect I am less happy and certainly less productive and less focussed (again none of which I was born with in spades) for its existence.

This weekend, I have unplugged a bit (sorry for the lack of blog.) We went OUTSIDE and stepped into a place I have neglected but love, the delectable Sugahill, on the way to a local festive kneesup. But the offspring had other ideas and we were forced to recamp home. We’ve read, we’ve coloured in, we’ve danced danced danced to daddy’s music and we’ve read Christmas books. Watched The Grinch and Elf (yes we have. Head in hands) and generally stepped into Christmas. I have even nearly completed that most loathed of tasks, writing the Christmas cards. Even with no money, I’ll give up getting them pre-inscribed when I’m cold and  dead. All I really have to do now is embark upon the annual scrabble for addresses which is actually the worst bit of all.

We’ve abandoned the fake tree this year and a real tree is, to my eternal regret, a little premature for a toddler. Instead, I’ve chopped a branch from the garden, sprayed it with snow, festooned it with bling and plonked it in an outsize pot. Yeah, it looks a bit lame but its all you’re getting as I can’t have my gorgeous real pine. Last year I bowed to pressure and bought a fake tree (to compensate I went allout for kitsch thinking “why pretend it’s real. Go anti-real” and bought black but a year on, it doesn’t look any less crap than a fake green tree. So.  I am standing by my principles. If I cant have real,  I won’t have it at all.) Today we went all out and made a christmas tree collage AS WELL as crowns for one of her playgroup parties tomorrow. I purposely made one of the crowns to look a bit like the Princess’ from  I Want My Potty and then tried to coax her to use the potty. She became pathologically attached to it and refused to take it off and agreed to sit on the potty, but only facing backwards and with her trousers on.

In between all of this we read:

Dear Santa by Rod Campbell. (Lift the flap interest)

I Want My Hat Back by Jon Klassen. A lot

Crazy Hair by the Gaiman

Otto the Book Bear by Katie Clemenson


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