|look closely - daffodils! In December|
Ah, Christmas. 364 days away. Bliss. Don't get me wrong, I do like it. But I like to get past it as well. I'm eyeing the tree and wondering how soon I can slide it into the green bin. It hasn't been helped by the sudden diabolo craze around here. It was a late request from the littlest boy, and somehow Father Christmas managed to pull one out of the bag. The biggest boy also has one, and the middle boy has a yo-yo. The living room is full of flying objects. The diabolo-ers are getting all tricksy and swinging it round their heads and throwing it back and forth to each other. The tree is crashed into on average about once every seven minutes. My nerves are in shreds. I know, I say that every year. Anyway, the tree is leaning and no longer looking its best and its days are numbered.
We went for a walk on Christmas Eve to look at pretty cottages and houses looking deliciously cosy in the fading light. I do so love Christmas Eve afternoon. Then yesterday we went to the beach where the wind was roaring. The littlest boy had a new Superman costume for Christmas. You may recall how much he loved the old one. He was so happy to have a new one, also a Batman top and cape, some camouflage trousers and a couple of camouflage bandanas. He was thrilled with it all and has been wildly mixing and matching ever since.
Down towards the dangerous sinking mud a man was digging for bait. I took the middle boy down to see what he was getting, in the interests of furthering his fishing education. The littlest boy came too. We got to about six feet away from him and suddenly my boots sank through the surface crust of the mud and I WAS SINKING. There are danger signs everywhere advising you not to go too far out because it gets to the stage where you just can't pull your feet out. I started dancing around like a maniac and shrieking "I'm sinking, I'm sinking" and although I'd been on top of the mud just a moment before I couldn't for the life of me get back to a bit where I wasn't sinking. The bait digger said helpfully, "You should have worn your wellies." I managed to suck myself out, but honestly, the mud was all over my feet by that time. We never did get to see what he had in his bucket. I did learn a little something about how far to go out. But I still don't understand why no-one else was sinking. Not even his car. It couldn't be that I was the fattest could it? I'm not going to have to make a New Year's resolution or anything am I?
So that's the news from here really. Christmas - over it. Diabolo - look out! Mud - new respect. You?