Dashing Through the Snow, on a One Horse Open Scooter

I can confirm that Santa’s in town. I know, because I saw him. I do have some news for Father Christmas fans though. It seems Santa has traded in his “Sleigh/Reindeer Combo MX300” for something a little more “practical”. Santa was sat astride a mobility scooter in a shop window.

I’m sure when “Marketing Idea of the Year” hit The Shop owner, it was all he could do to get Father Christmas on the scooter before someone else stole his genius plan. Luckily, I think my son was too young to fully understand but what about the older children?

“Mummy, Where's Rudolph? How is Santa going to deliver all the presents to all the children around the entire world on one of those? Does it fly? Even if it is a top of the range model Mummy, how is it going to fit down the chimney?, Mummy, I’m worried about the potential impact on Santa’s Delivery Schedule”. I hope you can sleep tonight Shop Man, they’ll be a lot of children out there who can’t!

Accountant found my secret stash of yummy biscuits today which I had cunningly hidden amidst masses of horrid low-fat Rich Tea fingers. I factored in Accountant’s general lack of attention and perseverance and thought this time it was a safe bet, he’d never see them and, if by some fluke he did, he would not want to waste his precious beer-drinking energy on custard cream fishing. Drat and double drat – he ate them ALL. He always does this. He even eats Chickie’s food, mostly his custard pots. When he has to feed Chickie, he chooses food that he really wants to eat so as soon as Chickie refuses it, he can have it.

The problem is, when I really hide it, I forget I’ve hidden it and then stumble across it months later when it’s gone stale. I did that recently with Glam-Nan's ginger biscuits which are my all time favourite. I hid them in a saucepan to keep them safe from Accountant. I sobbed when I found them two weeks later and they were inedible although I did still try and eat them. It was made even worse by the fact that Glam-Nan rations them as she thinks they're too fattening and I'm lucky to get ten a year. She then insists that I share them with Accountant. When she found out the whole "sharing" thing wasn't going to work for me, she started separating the portions and only delivering them at times when Accountant was home so she could personally hand them to him with a smug, "These are your ones, my special wecial little Son-in-Law. I'm kind and fluffy unlike my daughter who I did teach to share. I don't know what's happened to her" look.

Screamy Wonder was ratty this afternoon. He cried in his pushchair round town, cried in the 30 min Post Office queue which I know everyone enjoyed and then cried from 5pm-bedtime. He was especially unhappy when I tried to give him ‘poo’ sandwiches again.