Tag Archives: santa

‘Twas the Night Before a Different Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
a creature was stirring, a lot louder than a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
But instantly pulled down, cause they don’t belong there!

Other’s children were nestled, all snug in their bed,
while mine had numbers and overload consuming his head.
And Mama was tired she felt really crap,
She wanted a Christmas like those other people had

When out in the corridor there rose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Upstairs my son had escaped with a flash
Entering his room I heard a loud crash.

The moon shone its light through the curtains with a glow
While the Christmas stocking lay alone on the floor down below
It was not welcome, it had been a strange thing to appear
‘Cause he didn’t know about a sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

I tucked him in calmly with a kiss so quick
To him there was no person called St. Nick.
But Christmas is not what it is to claim
We can call it something different, a new name

“No Dasher! No Dancer!
No, Prancer and Vixen!
Or, Comet! Or, Cupid!
Or, Donner or Blitzen!
The strangeness is scary
With meltdowns a plenty
So dash away! Dash away!
Dash away, No entry!”

I unwrap every gift to remove the surprise
Making it clear what has been left to find
We listen for murmurs of our little dude
Because a load full of toys will be left for him too.

As the morning light dances onto the roof
Little footsteps can be heard while we’re still aloof
As I draw my covers downwards I look all around
My boy comes into the room with a bound

He is dressed in his pyjamas, from his head to his foot,
and he announces for rice cakes, I go have a look
The toys sit untouched all alone in a stack
My boy has grabbed the familiar toys he knows back

But my boy’s eyes-how they twinkle! His smile, so merry!
His cheeks are like blossoms, his feet a little smelly!
His little mouth is drawn up in a smile,
His blonde hair so bushy in one big pile
He opens his mouth and produces a gap in his teeth
He brushes past the big unfamiliar Christmas wreath
It is just a normal day with a bit of telly
Just like every other day full of jolly

As food is prepared with goodies from the shelf
He holds an apple, the outcome from stealth
A wink of my eye and a twist of his head
I soon realise that this is not a Christmas I need to dread.

As the others eat turkey and all the trimmings
My son sits on the couch with with his Christmas bringings
A pizza with small hot dogs on the side
Who needs a spread when your favourites are tried

We don’t need a Christmas card representation
It’s our family Christmas, our own homemade tradition
We don’t need the presents or big fat old bird
We don’t need the silence where nothing is heard

Cause Christmas is a tradition made our family’s way
Where you can do what your like, your own special day
And if that is the same as everyday before
That’s OK, it makes it less of a chore.

So Merry Christmas to all on this strange dark night
Where we do things differently, we do them right
As I look at the smile on the face of my son
He creeps quietly upstairs because he is done.

Merry Christmas Everyone

🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠

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Timber!

The tree got the brunt of it!

Unfortunately it was one of those scenarios where he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He didn’t do anything, except stand upright in his normal way and sparkle and shine his decorations. It was just bad luck that one second he was upright and the next he was face planting the carpet.

The Gruffalo was to blame. Eight repetitions of The Gruffalo to be exact! Probably seven times too many!

I know my error as soon as my words of “Last Go” and “All finished” had been ignored. The over stimulation of an electronic flashing screen had resulted in an immediate drop to the floor and a scream a deducible too high.

I clasped my hands over my ears in the same way my son does when it is too much to handle.

It was too much to handle!

I watched my son scream the words “Gruffalo, Gruffalo, Gruffalo” over and over again, knowing we had passed the line, and it was just a matter of waiting it out.

He started running back and forth towards an irrelevant destination. Frantic that the bright-image-presenting box was now a blank screen and his head remained full of want.

I sat there supporting his situation. Cuddles available for when he was ready to accept them, and friendly comforting words constantly coming from my mouth.

It happened so quickly.

I turned for a second and out of the corner of my eye I saw it evolve one frame at a time. The tree fell forward in slow motion, its tinsel in tact while the star and baubles clung on for dear life. Once it was over I looked to my son. Rhys stood with the evidence of two baubles in his hand. He had been caught in the act of destruction.

But a fallen tree does not bring back the Gruffalo, and in my head, I knew we just had to push past and let the meltdown subside. So I sat on the carpet repeating “Rhys, it is going to be ok” and offering cuddles, which just got constantly rejected.

It took an hour. But we both got through it. A lesson learnt. A new plan to be formulated going forward.

I made the wrong choice today. Day one of isolation was always going to be a steep learning curve, and trying to work full time, while occupying a six year old was always going to have its compromises. However six hours straight of the Gruffalo is not the solution.

I know that now.

Only nine days to go.

At least this time (unlike March) I have an end date in mind.

Suggestions and options for telly-free entertainment gladly accepted.

I think I need all the help I can get!

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

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A Song and Dance with Santa!

We stand in a large room, the Christmas tunes are ringing out of a speaker in the corner. Rhys was happy to enter the building, and seems calm, but still clutches his ears with his hands, slightly anxious.

Santa visits are never on the agenda for our little boy. The lights and loud jingles, followed by a stranger in a bright suit, are not a recipe of joy for my little boy – a perfect sensory overload disaster! Previous attempts have seen complete abandonment, with tears and screaming due to it all being too much. Other children waiting excitedly in line, while I hold back the tears and dodge kicks and slaps from my son who is terrified of the complexity of the experience. An experience that every other child looks forward to, is something we have left off the past Christmas to-do lists.

But for some reason, here we are. Waiting our turn to see the big fat man. We are giving it another go.

If Rhys doesn’t want to, that is ok. We have learnt over the years to try new things and have realistic expectations of them not coming to fruition.

“Come on through, please” says the kind blonde haired lady, and I follow my husband as I hold Rhys’ hand.

The room is quiet and calm, with lights flickering in the corners. A massive fireplace is in the centre of the wall and the jolly, cookie loving chap is waiting for us in his chair.

“Ho, ho, ho. Hello Rhys” he says, as we notice some chairs placed socially distanced, two meters away from Santa.

As two of my children take their seats, smiling at the guy who is going to make all their dreams come true, my little Rhys shuttle runs back and forward across the room.

“Hello, Rhys” says Santa, from his seat by the fire.
Rhys stops and looks up through the bushy man’s beard. “Head, shoulders, knees and toes” he shouts, immediately commencing with the song by touching his head with his two hands.

Santa stands up, and Rhys grabs both his hands, lifting them upwards towards Santa’s head, prompting him to join in with the song. The sight is comical, Santa singing and copying the actions of my son, a sight so special to a family who does not do Santa. As the song comes to an end, Rhys then starts to spring around the little room, jumping forward with both feet in a sort of bunny hop.

“Ho ho, I can jump too!” says Santa, and as I stand on the side, I watch a full grown man with his belly full of jelly, mimic my little boy. My other two children join in, and it doesn’t take long before all six of us are bouncing around the room in a scenario no one has ever seen presented on any Christmas card!

Today demonstrated to me that it is people who make the difference. Rhys didn’t need Santa or fancy lights or presents. He just wanted someone to join him in his jumping and songs.

And today that person was Santa 🎅

Thank you to Caerphilly Miners Centre for the Community for hosting the big jolly chap. You have not only made one little boy’s Christmas, but you have made a mum’s Christmas magical too. Because there are no words to describe seeing my son interact with Santa in his very own way, but even better to have Santa so naturally interact back.

🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

…and Santa, there will be a beer and mince pie waiting for you in a couple of weeks time.

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