Christmas crept up on me this year.
Grateful as I am that I am not wandering round Southland shopping centre, crying, as I was last year as our first Christmas in Melbourne approached, I do feel guilty that I haven’t immersed myself in all things Christmas.
Maybe it’s because we haven’t had to enter into complex UN -style negotiations with our family over who is going where, on which days, bringing which salad?
Or maybe it’s because TS (unprompted) took care of the presents (we decided that we weren’t going to buy each other presents) and the tree?
Or perhaps it’s just being in the middle of summer instead of swathed in winter clothes?
Whatever the reason, for the first time in living memory I stood back and watch the tree being decorated, without giving clear direction, or even rearranging the tree after the boys had gone to bed.
I began to wonder what was wrong with me.
Desperate to find some Christmas cheer we visited Santa’s Magical Kingdom, but although the children were happy, being in a tent on a hot day with fake snow didn’t fill TS and I with much festive spirit.
Then, I remembered CM quizzing me about how exactly Santa visits each house. After he had asked lots of questions he told me a detailed story about Santa using special magical dust to get down the chimney.
And there it was, the Christmas spirit. Full of magic and wonder. A gentle reminder from a child.
So I haven’t fussed about the menu and I haven’t envisaged what their Christmas Day outfit will be.
Instead I’ve asked everyone what they want to eat, and as for clothes, hopefully it will be warm enough for the beach or the sprinkler in the garden.
I hope that whatever sort of Christmas you are having, it’s a great one.