I blame The Polar Express.
I rented it as a Christmassy end-of-term treat and we all five snuggled on the sofa to watch it under a duvet last night. Bloody rubbish it was. Total mish-mash of ideas, weird bunch of characters, and worst of all, it dared to suggest to kids the possibility that not everyone believes in Father Christmas (why do kids' films DO this?)
This morning at breakfast, I was literally just thinking how relieved I was that my three (aged 7, 5 and 3) still believed in FC and the wretched film hadn't been one huge spoiler, when my eldest daughter said, "Sometime I think it's really the parents who put presents in children's stockings and not Father Christmas at all."
Don't think that! Luckily I was making a coffee and had my back to her so she couldn't see the aaarrgggh face I pulled. I turned round and her eyes were upon me, questioning. Shit. I was really stuck for what to say. I didn't want to tell a whopping great lie but at the same time, I didn't want to bludgeon her with the truth, especially as son was listening in.
"Oh, you've got to believe," I said, "otherwise you'll have to go on the Polar Express."
Her eyes brightened. "Oh cool!" she said. "I really want to go on the Polar Express!"
I made an escape with the coffee before we had to talk about it any more. (It was a crap answer, though, wasn't it? What should I have said??)
Ahhh well. Apart from this little blip, life is good, school's finished for Christmas and we are all feeling festive. And on that note, I'm going to sign off for a few days with a big fat Merry Christmas to blog readers everywhere. CHEERS!
Socks and chocs
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