The Great Christmas Fraud

Never before had I realised the perks of Christmas with my children. It all started Christmas Eve with the kids asking what we should leave Father Christmas and the reindeers, which of course should be blue or gold top milk as Father Christmas is not too keen on the green top. Father Christmas also likes yummy biscuits, sausage rolls, crunchy carrots and Mrs. Father Christmas likes a fat juicy mince pie.

As we put the kids to bed I cooked dinner and put on a Christmas film that makes the minces pies calorie free, while we acted like elves and wrapped presents. Now don’t get excited, this was dad wrapping and I was a little worried the ‘bargain basement style beaten up wrapping like it was stolen’ was not good enough, but my wife assured me it would only last a few seconds so don’t panic. Now every few seconds I tucked into my hot sausage rolls and tried to enjoy the film, but between presents and the entire world calling me the credits were rolling on the film before I knew it.

Now I am not sponsored or paid on my blog but I said before that we own a ‘gro clock’. So I set it for 7am and told my little girl when Mr Sun appears she could get out of her bed. To whoever you are ‘gro clock’ people thank you so much. 7am on Christmas Day arrived and I arose calmly and serenely out of my bed (I can already hear the jealousy and screams of “He should count himself lucky! ” And yes my body does!) As we got downstairs I was a little worried when my son announced “Has Father Christmas been?” Sorry son, was the gold stack of presents on the floor not a dead giveaway, or should I have installed a neon sign saying look down here? No sooner had he realised that Father Christmas had not bypassed our house than Christmas wrapping began to fly high in the sky, whilst I was grumpy that all my hard wrapping and sellotape skills were not even appreciated! Which reminds me, last night I was given a reel of sellotape with no end while my wife had an automatic dispenser. I’m not grumpy about it, few issues maybe that someone was cheating, but not bitter. Thank you my loving, ‘no end sellotape’ wife for looking after me. My wife did give me yummy ice cream, so I think she is forgiven but a coffee could seal the deal.

Our bin company were very kind and said we could leave extra recycling beside the bin, as I had visions of me wearing wellies standing in the recycling bin Christmas Day jumping up and down. Judging by the state of our front room we had a take on the world’s paper stocks!

All had quietened down, and I was about to say all was well, until my son announced the bubbles were gone, and I feared the tears were ready to roll. Apparently Daddy was sitting on them, which surprised and shocked me as I my bottom was now so large that a canister of bubbles could fit in the gap, and I now no longer felt it! Worried about my weight and the thought of spending a day at the local hospital having a doctor retrieving them with a pair of pliers I quickly jumped up. Strange, no bubbles, and having frisked my bottom, I was in the clear and the doctor could stand down. My son then produced a very large grin which told me “Yes I am hiding them Daddy,” and “Yes, you do need to find them!” I found them hiding by a radiator to which he leapt with joy and announced “Again Daddy.” No son, I was on the verge of phoning the NHS and my local diet club. I do not need that kind of scare again on Christmas Day.

We raced to church which served a very good purpose that unlike last year we did not need to bring most of the local toy shop with us. This Christmas at church I faced a new problem. Not only was my son way more mobile, but he could run faster than me. Having got to the quiet bit, my son shot round to the front of the church knowing that I would not be willing to frog march him back as he could lay on the tears faster than parents could start tutting. I decided on a new technique, which was truly inspired. Before I left I grabbed a hand full of chocolate coins and hid them in my pocket. To entice my son back, I simply waited until he saw me then I held one out in full view until he shot back like rocket. This had other parents laughing as I held it in front of him until he sat back on a chair. Other parents may have laughed but me, I was a little worried as I only had a few left chocolates left and if he repeated the stunt I was fairly sure he would be laughing, not myself, so we grabbed the crayons and paper. Drawing has for years calmed down children but today was not that day, as my son bucked the trend and decided to start eating the crayons. The first I knew was a full set of green teeth like someone from the 18th century who dreamed of owning a toothbrush.

As we headed towards lunch my family tantalised my kids with one early present which turned out to be a dinosaur on a large stick. Someone thought would be safe for children but I have to question this, as he moved around swiping ornaments, which all looked priceless before destruction dinosaur got going. Please tell me why he only swipes the most expensive items? It’s like there is a magnet and both the dinosaur and my son had very large grins. Now picture this scene of chaos, my little girl came in with an electronic toy that said to just add batteries. No mention at all about the full toolkit that would make most car dealerships dribble! Yes it did come with instructions about a few millimetres thick, on cigarette paper in a million languages, most of which I think were mocking me. If you remember last year I learnt my lesson and guarded the parts from kids, hiding the screws and batteries on the floor, but what I did not expect was a tongue about a metre long between my feet. It would appear that the dogs thought anything shiny would be edible so now I was crouched on the kitchen floor with my cigarette paper instructions, defending my parts from two dogs, minding the traffic of people wandering round me as I was now in the way, with my little girl who originally came in to chase me up, seeing I was losing the will to live giving me a quick cuddle and telling me “I love you Daddy.”

Dinner time is always one of my favourites and Christmas Dinner is the best one ever. Shame that I didn’t consider my own advice by being careful as to where you sat. I was next to my son, also known as the human rocket, who always found an excuse as to why he could not sit for dinner. Excuse number one – “I need to tell my Mummy something.” This meant that he was telling on Daddy because he was being mean as I refused his salt on Christmas pudding. He thought it was sugar, and Daddy was telling fibs as he knew it was sugar. If you knew my human rocket nothing would surprise you, such as finding him with a solid wooden walking stick whacking the glass windows. Now I do not, nor wish to, explain to a double glazing company why I am ringing them during their Christmas lunch or start begging they come out on Christmas Day, so I took the walking stick away. This was met with tears and “Mummy, Mummy, Daddy says no!” No matter how good I am, my son will always find an excuse to tell on ‘naughty Daddy’. If he was a reporter for a newspaper I would make headlines everyday due to being labelled the ‘bad’ man.

As my kids squabble over presents you will find me hidden in the corner dribbling, and rocking backwards and forwards, which is strangely comforting, just waiting for the men in white coats to take me away for a little holiday.