This morning I discovered I have failed in yet another way as a parent.
It was while reading Tiger Christmas Wombat, in which Jackie French's famous marsupial goes on an impromptu adventure with some strange, antlered creatures, in search of EVEN MORE CARROTS (he never knew there were so many carrots IN THE WORLD!!!).
I looked from the sleigh on which Wombat catches a ride, to Tiger, to the charity Santa sack we have hanging on out mantelpiece and ...
I gulped.
Santa.
I forgot Santa.
I'd love to blame it on my illness-addled mind, but the reality is more embarrassing.
See, it's not that I REALLY still believe that Santa still exists (*cough*). It's more that I did not realise until that moment that ...
I AM SANTA.
Gulp again.
This realisation shook my world a little bit.
It's Mummy who eats the carrot. Mummy who drinks the milk. Mummy who tiptoes to the Santa sack after Tiger is asleep. ME WHO MUST NEVER BE DISCOVERED DOING THESE THINGS!!!
It's an enormous responsibility. Especially for someone who is UTTERLY INCAPABLE OF BEING STEALTHY!
Also, there is the added responsibility of Remembering To Buy The Santa Present.
I failed in this.
Thank you, Christmas Angels, for Christmas Wombat. Thank you, Angels, for six more days to right my parenting wrong.
And while I'm on the subject of thank-you's ...
This:
My dad wrote a beautiful post about his year that was. I am honoured and humbled to be featured. Thank you to the man who was my Santa for so many years, and is now the best dad, supporter and friend a girl could wish for.
Just like his granddaughter, he is so very lovely.
~ Love, Miss Cackle x
2 comments:
Laughing here. I hope you and your family have a very lovely Christmas day even if you do have occasional lapses! Charming.
Who says Mummy has to be Santa? Why can't Daddy? ;-)
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