Er.. did I say that my grandson was not spoiled? Excuse me while I smile, broadly. To cover the fact that I might just be having a moment of exaggeration. Just a teeny moment!
You see Kai has 4 full sets of great grandparents for goodness sake. There's Mama & Papa, Grandpa & Nana, Nanny Irish or Nanny Alice (depending on your mood or what just comes out of your mouth) & Grandad Serge and finally Nanny Maureen & Grandad Bill. Add to this, grandparents, parents, aunties, cousins, and friends - his and ours - and what you have is an incredible number of birthday gifts one month before Christmas. Which leads us, as in Hannah and I us, to tea in bed, one morning, with the hot topic under discussion: what can we get him for Christmas? At this moment I know that you are all thinking well that's easy - you don't get him anything. Father Christmas does. And you'd be so right, as he does indeed visit our home in the early hours of Christmas morning, very soon after we've gone to bed, almost as if he lies in wait to hear the light switch go off and boom he's been. Stockings pressed down, shaken and running over (as in the true spirit of Christmas - in other word's copying the generosity of the 'one' it's all about anyway). However, I don't know about your home but Father Christmas brings our stocking gifts, hence the constant cry from every mouth of "thank you Father Christmas" as each item is separated from it's wrapping paper. We're a thankful bunch. So if he 'does the stocking' what about the pile downstairs - you've guessed it! It's great grandparents, grandparents, parents, aunties, cousins and friends - his and ours. It's a pile! So what do you get the boy who has loads of gifts and a few more!
Oh don't get me wrong we're not complaining, far from it. He loves it, we love it and honestly between you and me by the time I've carried out my ritual declutter of outgrown, broken and totally useless (as in happymeal junk useless) toys and then my ceremonial 'decant' of all that is new and lovely into their prepared spaces: under beds, into newly bought plastic boxes hidden in cupboards, and delightful shabby chic chests happily displayed around the living room, then honestly it really isn't that much after all. We might run out of black bags and have filled all the recylcing containers of all that is not wanted and managed a few trips to the charity shops, but it all fits. There's a place for everything and everything has it's place. Well at least until Kai comes back from nursery or has a couple of friends round then 'the place' is on the floor, in the bed, down the toilet, under the sofa, down the back of the sofa, in the DVD player and any other number of nooks and crannies discovered whilst running round the house like wild things, a tornado of children and stuff, of stuff and children. Some gets lost. Some gets broken. All gets played with. Enjoyed. Treasured. And eventually, poor young Mimi starts to sacrificially put everything back in its place: under beds, into boxes in cupboards and thank goodness for those delightful shabby chic chests which keep my home looking less like a playgroup and more like our cosy, charming, inviting, humble place, where we belong. A place for everyone and everyone can share our place.
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