HOW MANY DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS?

Another early morning – will I ever get to wake up naturally, without a disturbance again?  It makes the thought of the children going away with their father for a week in the summer almost quite appealing now.  Perhaps I’ll just stay in a darkened room and sleep for seven days. 

My seven year old woke me up this morning to say “I can’t believe my birthday’s over already, can you?.  How many days until my next birthday?  Ages?  Well how many days exactly, oh that is ages, oh well, it’s nearly Christmas isn’t it, how many days until Christmas?”.

The countdown to Christmas has already begun.  What a hideous thought.

My mother has just called “what does he mean he loves his wee and that his brother and sister have been playing with his wee too? I’m getting seriously worried about your child”.  I attempt to explain the difference between Wii and Wee, but don’t understand why Nintendo chose to give it such a stupid name.

The sun is out!  Miracle.  Wonder if I can attempt to persuade all three of my children to do something together with me?  Hmmm, unlikely.  I might have to put my foot down and insist on some time together or bribe them.  When I was a child it was simply not an option to do something else at the weekend, the weekends were sacrosanct family time, which actually meant, my father time, but that was OK.  Because we lived in Hong Kong we spent a lot of time on boats.  Which worked well for everybody except me.  My parents smoked and drank alcohol all day, my two brothers leapt from great heights into clear blue water and water-skied whilst I sat on the top deck feeling sick all day long, unable to even read a book.

So what shall I do today?  I already have the mental image of three grumpy children slouching behind me, mumbling swear words under their breath and giving me looks that could kill a wild mob, whilst I run up and down trying to get a kite elavated and two seconds later, untangled, or attempt to hit a ball and run to 4th base with absolutely no other players.  Not good.  Rollerblading?  Possibly – I like that one because I’m better than them, which obviously means they hate it…but one mistake and I’ll break a bone.  Large lunch? Too expensive.  Beach?  Too far.  Walk?  You must be joking.  Bowling?  Too busy.  Picnic?  I hate picnics.

Will give it some thought, but need to be quick.  The element of surprise and absolutely no option to refuse is all that I’ll have left and there is only a small window of opportunity – I have to catch them when they emerge from their rooms and clomp stiffly down the stairs, bleary eyed.  “Guess what?  we’re going out today, hooray!”.  Then I need to get them dressed and out before they have much of a chance to complain and no chance to put on that really annoying united front they save for moments like these.