….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.