Deliciously Devious

Here in the blessed British Isles there is no expectation at Christmas time to buy gifts for teachers.

There is none of that 'room mother' malarkey either.

In fact teachers are to consider themselves honoured if they receive a Christmas Card from a parent. Mostly they get nothing. Us Brits are nothing if we aren't stingy.

Here you take your kids to school leave them there and stay away.

Returning only to collect your kids or dutifully attend concerts and other presentations when permitted.

I am perfectly happy with this arrangement.

But at Christmas I go the extra mile, I want to make a good impression.

I want to let the teachers know I appreciate them both educating my kids and taking them off my hands several hours each week.

So again this year in a bid to make an everlasting impression I baked (if you can call stirring and chilling baking because really that is all the effort required).

I baked Banoffee pie, crisp chocolate biscuit crumb base, filled with dense swirled caramel and melted Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate, topped with banana and finally whipped cream.

Delicious!

Why make the effort if it isn't even expected?

It's all about being teachers pet.

And when I say that I'm not talking about the kids I am simply talking about me!

From the tears in Thomas' teachers eyes I'd say Mission Accomplished.

Angelic, Really?

On Friday I was absolutely swollen with pride as I went to see my firstborn in his first ever school Christmas concert.

A couple of weeks previously we received direction that the Nursery Class were gonna to be a choir of angels in the production (which I quietly found highly amusing because the furthest thing you can probably find from an angel is a three year old) and that in aforementioned role my son would be required to wear an angel costume.

I explained it to him and he responded promptly and with disgust, "No!"

Turns out angels wear dresses and as he is very much a boy there was no possibility of him wearing a dress ever.

After convincing him to trust me that angels are actually men (despite them being depicted in nativity plays worldwide as sweet little girls) and they wear 'special robes' and not dresses he finally agreed to participate. Though there is a possibility he agreed to participate solely to shut me up so he could concentrate on more important things, you know, like Diego.

So here is my very own little angel pre-performance. It is amazing what you can accomplish with a pillowcase and some tinsel (my sewing machine conspired against me dressing my son in a dress too and refused to work) when needs must. Crazy face courtesy of insisting on saying cheese with gusto.

The concert was so lovely and I only caught him picking his nose once (his new hobby) and fortunately he was far from the only one.
And for 30 entire minutes 39 3 and 4 year olds actually were angelic.

Too bad it didn't extend to the two year old I had to take along.

So That's Where Snow Comes From

This morning Thomas gave us an extensive discourse on where water comes from as only a 3 year old really can.

So I asked him if he knew who made the snow (I like to be topical you know).

'Yes' He promptly replied.

'Santa and Jesus'.

I couldn't help but think the world would be a sublimely nicer place if Santa and Jesus were responsible for everything, not just snow.

What Exactly Goes On In Those Little Brains?

A couple of days ago as Rob pulled onto the drive Eli started yelling with excitement "Poo-Daddy, Poo-Daddy!"

Thomas corrected him and said "No E-I (which is exactly how he pronounces his name, I am doing you a phonetic favour here) it's not Poo-Daddy it is Who-Daddy."

I'd like to take this opportunity to correct them both.

It is actually Ho-Daddy, Ho-Daddy and if you have no clue whatsoever what I am referring to then you obviously have been deprived of the 217 hours of Backyardigans that parenthood has forced upon me.

The Ho-Daddy reference is from the Surf's Up episode. I totally recommend it BTW. Anyhow that is a massive tangent so I'll get back to the point.

Eli responds, "No Daddy is a giant like mummy!" (I'm 5 feet 10 inches hardly giant proportions but I guess to a little person it could appear that way so I won't take offense, much.)

"NO daddy is bigger than mummy because he is the boss!"

How on earth did my three year old form such a politically incorrect opinion? I'll have you know Rob is neither the boss of this household (or anywhere else really) or even taller than me.

I am an actually an entire inch taller. So there, Thomas. I must be the boss if height is the only requirement.

As if that wasn't a treat enough last night when I thought both my boys were sleeping somewhere around 10pm Thomas unexpectedly shouts my name out. He didn't sound upset so I chose to respond from my seat on the sofa (the benefits of dwelling in a teeny tiny house) wondering what he could be wanting at such an hour when he should have been in a peaceful slumber for hours.

His response?

'I am getting big boobies like you'.

Cue near death by laughing fits for both Rob and I whilst Rob explained that boys don't have boobies.

And for the record I think he is the first and no doubt the last person to ever use the word big in connection with my boobies.

Because we all know when God was handing out the boobs I was obviously in the queue for a zippy metabolism instead.

A girl can't have everything.

The Most Wonderful Time of The Year

It actually snowed this morning (about 37 snowflakes to be exact but hey, snow is snow!) and it just seemed far too perfect to not get festivities under way.

Eli about to throw the bauble at me because he could make it 'stick' to the tree.

So excited for Christmas this year!!

My little elves getting the job done.

On a side note the Eli monster is officially out of his cot and in a bed (our house is 100% baby kit free, hallelujah!). He even slept through falling out of bed on night 2 and slept this morning until 8:30 (we can only hope it wasn't concussion related). Joy! Here he is sporting his new haircut courtesy of Joel and the most random hairdressing technique ever.

SO proud of their efforts! (Please note we have never been to either the Hard Rock Cafe or Copenhagen, T Shirt courtesy of Thomas drenching himself whilst washing his hands at school today.)

Obviously I let them have free reign and decorate the tree to their own preference.

Which was of course to cluster all the baubles in one preschooler high area.

So of course I stripped it bare and decorated it beautifully when they were tucked up in bed.

Here's hoping they never notice the difference!