New Mummy Blog: Four Reasons Why Children And Christmas Don't Mix
…And the one reason that makes it all worthwhile.
It is the most magical time of year. And since having children of my own, that magic is back. Now, it’s more than just a blur of one too many mulled wines and one too many repeats of Slade on the radio.
Now it’s a time of sugar-induced crash and burn over-excitement and an absolute breakdown of the bedtime routine.
But while Christmas is undoubtedly a time for children, I’ve come to realise there are several reasons why the two things really don’t go together.
Take the tree, for example. And the baby. There is nothing more tempting to an almost-one-year-old than a twinkling, glittering Christmas tree with an assault course of presents underneath. Who needs soft play when you’ve got this in your own home.
[Photo: Yahoo/Claire Sparks]
Once he got over his initial shock that there was a blooming big tree in the corner of the room, he progressed from a puzzled “um… has anyone else noticed this?!” point and shout, to full on assault. No bauble is to remain intact, no pine needle uneaten.
Now I understand why some people put a playpen up around their tree. Pretty it’s not but at least they’re not drawn into an endless game of cat and mouse with the baby for the 12 days of Christmas and beyond.
And the toddler is only marginally better. At least she has a more developed sense of danger. But the girl’s a magpie when it comes to sparkly things, so we’ll be lucky if there’s a decoration left on the tree by Christmas Eve. Or a present left unopened.
Speaking of presents, what pressure there is now, already, on getting the kids the ‘right’ present. At least Henry can’t talk much yet and can’t ask for every single thing he sees advertised. The chances are he’ll be as happy with the wrapping paper or a spoon as he will with the Happyland Rocket.
But the pressure is ON with the toddler. Have we bought her the ‘right’ Little Mermaid Barbie? Because there are several - tail or legs, ballgown or bikini. I don’t think I could bear the disappointment on her little face if I’ve got it wrong.
I know, I know… It’s not what Christmas is about, and in my day we were happy with a satsuma and a pound coin in one of my dad’s old football socks. But it’s not my day anymore; it’s theirs, and the world is one big brightly coloured, plastic coated commercial place.
And it’s not just the giving of presents that’s a minefield, but the receiving. Sharing is pretty hard when you’re two, and that’s never truer than with presents. Just try playing pass the parcel with a bunch of toddlers; whoever thought it would be fun to dangle a present in front of them and then force them to pass it on unopened to someone else has a pretty sick sense of fun.
[Photo: Yahoo/Claire Sparks]
So there are some lessons in sharing being had by the toddler this Christmas, her first Christmas with a brother, as she learns that not all presents can be for her.
Then there’s the man who dishes out the presents: a portly, bearded, red-faced stranger. There’s a reason that Santa’s Grotto photos tend to feature kids that look frozen in terror. They’re desperate for that present but have to go through the scariest of hoops to get it.
Then follow up that grotto experience with the terrifying explanation that this strange man will be coming down the chimney at night and into her bedroom as she sleeps. Even if there are presents involved, this is just too much. We have enough trouble with dinosaurs under the bed.
But despite all of these silly things, the magic of Christmas with tiny children is intact.
Seeing their faces fill with awe as we drive past a house that’s gone all out with its Christmas lights. Watching how the baby’s eyes widen to saucers when he sees the tree, every time, without fail. Witnessing the toddler’s gentle fascination with the baby Jesus in her playgroup nativity scene. Listening to her ultra-enthusiastic carol singing.
All around me, both children playing, having fun. Tis the season, it really is. Their excitement is infectious and I’m so happy to be sharing it.
