Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

Babble dab a flubble bla dooo boo da da baa poob poob………

Nah, me neither. Just because Mummy and Daddy can’t understand me properly yet it doesn’t mean that you can’t Santa.

Anyhoo, LP here. First time writer, long term fan. When I say “long term” I really mean only a few months but you come highly recommended to me from Daddy who tells me all about you every time I pick up a TV remote control or a mobile phone and hold it to my ear, as, apparently, am prone to do.  I really do need to trust daddy as in my short life I have learned from bitter experience that  I really shouldn’t annoy the Chef. Also Santa, you have to remember too that it’s not been too long since the Stork brought me to Mummy and Daddy so you could really say I am actually a long term fan cos I’m only little.

Daddy tells me that you are the chap who checks up on me and makes sure I have been a good girl and if I haven’t then I won’t get any prezzie’s. That’s a wee bit harsh don’t you think?, but it doesn’t matter to me too much at all really. Don’t tell Daddy, but the threats of no prezzie’s don’t really do it for me. If we had a chimney, you would be able to  take a wee fly by, as opposed to a drive by which is more common in the Hood, as Daddy likes to refer to our present location and check up on how well I pick things up and pass them to other people. Mind you, when I pass objects like, runner beans, breadsticks with one soggy end and on occasion Stealth Poo to other people they have to say “Ta” or I have a wee melt down and have also been known to ‘code’. 

I find this to be the best way to enforce my will on others but I am aware that this would be   frowned upon in later life and I  will have to find other ways to wind my folks, especially daddy, round my little finger, in years to come.

So when it comes to prezzie’s I’m of the view that I don’t  need stuff really although there are a few things that I wouldn’t really mind. Of course the occasion of my first birthday some months ago did yield a veritable gold mine of gifts, many of which I am still trying to eat, dribble on or hide down the back of the Settee, although, sadly, due to some “unpleasantness” over the lack of Party Bags I have been instructed by mummy and daddy never speak of this again. I do have one question though Santa. Did all the other children have glittery poo’s, or as we like to call it “code bling's” after eating my, somewhat ironic for my tea total parents, pink elephant Birthday cake?

So Santa, how’s about some wrapping paper please. I’m partial to paper though mummy and daddy say that I really shouldn’t be eating it. If you possibly can, how’s about bringing me some flavoured paper though you might just have to invent this too. Hmm, what flavors? Strawberry is my favourite at the moment though I realise that they are now well out of season so I won’t hold out much hope. I’m second favourite flavour at the moment is my doggies ear as I quite like to chew on it much to the horror of Mummy and Daddy and most probably the hound too i shoild imsgine. I’m not really sure what flavor that is though but I'm sure you will do your best for me.

On the subject of food, Santa, did I tell you that I am eating what mummy and daddy are eating now, well almost. I’m not really sure about steak pie, well that and Haggis. Despite the fact that I am Scots I can’t really understand why anyone is completely happy with the notion of eating sheep’s lungs, but I will try and usually succeed ineat pretty much anything so much so that Mummy and Daddy are in a high state of alert whenever i go near a house plant. And as for the tabloid press, yes, yes I know that paper isn’t one of my 5 a day but, for the moment, that’s the way I roll.

Daddy does get a wee bit OCD when it comes to my diet though. I don’t really mind but I draw the line at molecular gastronomy. Who does he think he is, Heston blooming Blumenthal? Daddy should know by now that I am not really a snail porridge kinda girl and I have actually moved on from nicking normal porridge from Daddy as it is not and never should be considered to be finger food.

With this in mind Santa, please may I have a pair of scissors, safety ones of course. Clearly daddy is amused at the sight of me attempting to eat spaghetti but to be honest I draw the line when it comes to re-enacting the spaghetti and meatball scene from The Lady and the Tramp with a 7 year old Springer Spaniel with soggy ears. I suspect you might want to pop the scissors in mummy’s prezzie pile as I am sure that she would like to assist me to cut my spaghetti up rather than watch me sook so hard that I poo myself.

So far so good Santa. That’s wrapping paper and scissors. All I need now is some rock and we could have a wee game going on Tee hee.

Sorry Santa, you don’t get off that lightly. Pweese Pweese Pweese can you get Daddy an audition on the X –Factor. Believe me, he sings all the time in fact I don’t think I have actually heard him say a full sentence to me unless he’s singing. I try to tell him that “let Daddy change your code browned nappy" sung in Baritone is any less humiliating if he were to actually say the words. Sadly he is as  Sister Sledge once sang “Lost in Music”.

Santa, you have not heard the half of it. Daddy’s singing was tolerable but since he got in with that bad lot at Boogie Babies he’s started to do hand movements too. Mummy told me that daddy wasn’t great shakes at doing YMCA but I am here to tell you he is hopeless at the bean bag song. What kind of role model do you call that?

 So, If you could see that Daddy get’s through to the X Factor live rounds in a Jedward or Wagner kinda way that people will ridicule him in public and if he’s lucky he’ll get a job in a holiday camp, I would be most grateful.

Santa, I’m almost done now, you will be very glad to hear. As you can see my list isn’t that long compared to some other little people I guess. I pretty much have all that I need for the moment and mummy and daddy tell me that since I got delivered by the Stork that they have everything that they could possibly wish for too.

Daddy tell’s me that on Christmas Eve we are going to make some mince pies, or Peh's as he calls them, for yourself and some carrot sticks for Rudolf so be sure to look out for them when swinging by the Hood. Before I go to bed Daddy's going to take me outside and look for the Christmas star just like he used to do with his mummy when he was little, if I see you I shall give you a wee wave.

Mummy and Daddy tell me that they can’t wait to spend their first Christmas with me, after all they have had to wait a long time for me to come along.

Yours in Anitici..................pation

Little Person xxx

 

Mummy and Daddy got to help their LP to write her first of many letters to Santa.

 

Watch out for a 12 day’s of Christmas special

 

Baby Steps

Baby Steps

Gentle reader, its been a wee while since the Stork swooped down carrying LP in her beak. We have moved on from panicking over neglecting to sterilise feeding bottles to trying not to allow LP to share her tea with the hound or to eat her own weight in news paper. LP receiving carpet burns on her tootsies from speed crawling on the once pristine living room rug seems like a mild inconvenience compared to protecting LP from the dangers inherent in walking when everything presents as being at LP eye level, at least for the moment. I say for the moment as LP has suddenly taken a growth spurt and has gone from petite to humungous in a matter of weeks. YM and I are of the opinion that this is due to LP’s new found love of pasta. Some might say that I should cut LP’s spaghetti up prior to serving it,  I rather pooh pooh convention on this one and believe that it is wholly appropriate to present LP with al dente Spaghetti which is two thirds her height.  It is a joy to watch LP eat spaghetti and she has now developed her own style, most probably out of necessity as, clearly, LP does not yet possess the manual dexterity to twirl a fork. To be honest I wouldn’t really like to let her loose with a fork as I think LP may use it as a weapon. So, devoid of cutlery, at least until LP can develop a grasp of English and YM and I can deploy de-escalation techniques to talk her down should LP turn on us, LP simply winds spaghetti round one fist and then pops it in her mouth, fist and all.  

Tis a joy to behold.

 LP seems to take change in her stride unlike YM and I who have spent the past night moving on from a baby proofed home to attempting, and failing, to create a toddler proof home. The simple answer would be to pop down to the nearest branch of Staples and purchase a party pack of bubble wrap. This would then be applied to every object which is not spherical in an attempt to prevent LP from concussing herself. If I had realised this before hand I could have saved myself the inconvenience of losing a testicle on the baby gate a few months ago… Ah well hindsight is, as mystic Meg says, a wonderful thing. I would have also realised that, sadly,  Staples went into receivership a few months ago and the time for purchasing liquidation sale bubble wrap is long past. Back onto the subject of baby gates, the three we have fitted has proved to be insufficient within our home. The kitchen, stairs and LP’s room all have them but YM and I are giving some serious consideration to fitting them to every door frame. In darker moments I have also considered razor wire and electrification but as YM pointed I have a poor track record in baby gate avoidance thus increasing the risk to my gonads is not one of my better ideas. Thanks YM, I knew you cared.

 Whilst not claiming impicunity, YM and I are watching the pennies in order to do what we said we would never ever do,  spoil LP rotten at Christmas. When I say spoil, YM and I won’t be spending the GDP of a small principality at Toys backwards R Us, though we do have great plans to buy her lots of wrapping paper and empty boxes to play with, and probably eat, as despite presently owning a veritable cornucopia of age appropriate toy’s, LP prefers to while away her playtime hours shredding newspaper and playing peek-a-boo from behind YM’s  box of chocolate Weetabix of a morning. As with bubble wrap and Staples, I really hope this is not a bad omen for Clinton’s card or  the Weetabix Food Company.

The safety of LP does not come cheap especially a marauding LP who now toddles through the house opening everything which shouldn’t be opened and tipping over everything that is likely to be spilt. As you will know doubt agree the safety of LP is paramount and therefore YM and I don’t begrudge taking appropriate  steps to provide safety and comfort for her. I want LP to grow up watching and learning how to cook like I did with my Granny, therefore a safe kitchen environment is paramount. There are of course winners and losers in this. Our poor hound is looking considerably  dehydrated since LP came to believe that washing her face in the hounds water bowl was right and proper. YM and I have effectively dealt with this problem by undertaking 15 minutes Observations on our hounds water bowl when LP enters the kitchen via Checkpoint Baby Gate. Sadly, the draw problem has proven somewhat more time consuming and costly to address.  Do you know how many draws you have in your living room or perhaps kitchen? No cheating now.  Our living room has 12 and our kitchen about the same. That means that YM and I have to purchase and install 24 locks in an attempt to keep our wee LP away from shiny objects of desire AKA Chef’s knives, Brillo pads and the odd domestic cleaning product. Much research was undertaken before an order of baby proofing locks was placed and the articulated lorry with one of those dinky wee fork lifts on the back was dispatched to deliver the locks to our home. All so far so good. I then decided that it would be a good idea to unpack all the lock components and bin the instructions and wrappings. So, armed with my electric cordless drill……..Is it just me or does everyone who picks up a cordless drill feel compelled to do Travis Bickle (De Niro) Taxi Driver impersonation?

You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? Then who the hell else are you talking... you talking to me? Well I'm the only one here……….

Anyway, deep breath, armed with my cordless drill I set about emptying the contents of my 12 kitchen draws randomly over the worktops before I faced the painful truth that the locks were not suitable for the draws. Bollocks

 

 If anyone wants to buy a job lot of locks…..

 

Sunday morning.

YM, who is far more sensible than me, went out and purchased locks which simply stick onto the doors and, sadly, for my De Niro impressions, don’t require any drilling. LP and I enjoyed some quality and safe Daddy Daughter Time this morning  making our first of many, Christmas Cakes together.

Beyond my wildest dreams.