This years first Christmas story or…

….the joy of grandchildren.

Well to be fair, it’s a last Christmas story actually but in the tradition of a lot of the British redtops, never let the truth get in the way of a good headline.

Just before Christmas last year we, (Grandma and Grumpy)  took the oldest grandchild Rufus, to a little fund raising event at the local children’s centre, part of which was Father Christmas in his grotto. Rufus, who is just three, was adamant that he wanted to go and see him. We strolled around the stalls for a bit buying little bits and bobs while Rufus kept insisting that he wanted to and go see Santa

I should explain that normally we all spend Christmas here in Cornwall but, as my son in laws father died earlier this year, they decided that they would spend the Christmas with his Mother, aka “Nanna” in Birmingham.

Anyway,Rufus eventually arrives at the head of the queue for the grotto and gets in to see Santa. In response to the usual “And what do you want for Christmas? he says.

” I just wanted to tell you that I shan’t be at Grandma and Grumpy’s house for Christmas, I’ll be at Nanna’s in Birmingham so can you take my presents there?

“OK” says Father Christmas, tapping the side of his nose, “Got that Rufus, thanks for letting me know”

The expression of relief the boys face as he left the grotto was palpable.

8 thoughts on “This years first Christmas story or…”

  1. I think it is rather sad that a three year old should be so acquisitive for material goods. But a sign of the times. I do note the UK is gripped in the ‘acquiring stuff’ mode these days, mainly plastic crap from the far east.. Just look at the one-upmanship of children’s parties.
    Interestingly here in the NW humanity seems to have gone through that barrier of acquisition, nowadays if it ain’t recycled or sustainable it is definitely not in the mode!

  2. j, don’t know really much about it, the boy had worked out by four or so that the whole thing was crap!
    he had a problem with how Santa always got it right and how could he remember it all etc etc.
    In the end I came clean but told him not to tell other kids because they still believed in it at nursery school. I never had any complaints so presumably he kept stumm!
    Precocious brat!
    Most father christmases in the US appear to be alcoholics too, yukk!
    Boarding school had it right, they used to load the kids on a bus, drive them up to London and make them hand out parcels of clean socks, food etc to the homeless and talk to them to find out about their lives, this was done just before the end of Christmas term. All went from age 8 up and quite right too, let them know exactly how privileged their lives actually were with or without presents.

  3. Mrs O,
    I’ll admit that on this occasion I’m biased (and happy to be so) but realistically I don’t think we can blame a three year old for what we or society have taught him. As it happens, his dad is quite highly skilled and could earn considerably more if he returned to Brum, but they choose to live in Cornwall for the quality of life and because, in the smaller villages at least, on the whole it still matters more who you are, rather than what you own. But, even here there is no escaping the advertising that is directed at kids in the press or on the box. I suppose we’re partly to blame because we buy the televisions, papers and computers that give the advertisers access to our kids. One can only hope, that like your son, they come out the other side of it all able to sort reality from all the crap but, just for these early years anyway, it brings me smiles.

  4. And justly so!
    Mine was a generalised comment
    I cannot blame your family living in Cornwall, knowing Brum all to wel, a ghastly vulgar place. I took great care to get the boy to come to Wales rather than me go to Brum except when he needed the hospitals which I have to admit were rather good by comparison with the Principalities lazar house!

Add your Comment

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: