Mental rambles

My wife reminded me about the children’s nativity plays on Tuesday evening.
‘You did remember didn’t you?’
‘Of course I did darling. When are they again?’
‘Wednesday, Thursday and Friday.’
‘What, this week?’
‘Yes. You said you remembered!’
‘Of course I remembered, I just didn’t realise you meant all in the same week!’

My wife loves Christmas. She loves the decorations, she loves the presents, but most of all she loves the tree.
I have to beg her not to put the decorations up before our eldest daughters birthday. (First week in December.)
This year she even let the children help her with the arrangement!

My eldest daughter was cast as Borachio in her school play. A clever associate of the villainous Don John.
She was a surprise casting as generally the speaking parts go to the older girls.
My parents went to see her on the opening night, my wife and I the following evening.
She was brilliant!
It also happened to be her fifteenth birthday.
I was proud of her for lots of reasons.

My two youngest children recently went to a party where they were able to decorate their own gingerbread man.
They were given one plain gingerbread man, icing sugar and a variety of sweet toppings.
My little girl thought hard and spent time choosing the ideal toppings to craft a gingerbread girl with chocolate drop eyes, jelly fruit hair and a mini smarty dress.
It was beautiful.
My little boy?
He slathered icing sugar over the whole thing and piled on as many sweets that would stick!
Although I was proud of my daughter, I had to be impressed with my boy’s single minded greediness.

On Sunday, my wife took us all to see a little Christmas play.
‘Clumsy, lazy reindeer makes good in the end.’
The baddy was bizarrely a Major from the British army.
I think they must have found the (real) uniform in a charity shop.
The play was pretty terrible but the children enjoyed it.

My eldest daughter is incapable of closing doors.
You’d think that if you have to open a door to get through it, it’d be an obvious thought to close it behind you.

Yesterday evening I collected her from St Albans and when we got home she failed to shut the passenger door properly when leaving the car.
The little door light stayed on all night.
Would the car start this morning when she needed a lift to the coach stop?
No. The battery was completely dead.
Poor girl had to catch the bus.

…Yes, I know I should have noticed when I locked the car.
(Annoying but brilliant car key clicky lock button thing!)
My punishment was having to organise and jump start the car in the freezing cold so my wife could get the other children to school.