wappy days
Christmas fever has hit stroller city central. (our flat).
we went out to buy a Christmas tree the other night. in previous years, whenever magnificent charles and i were in hong kong for Christmas, we did not buy a tree. we didn’t even contemplate it. but on monday, i was helping out at sebastian’s school and saw his reaction when he saw the decorated douglas fir sitting in the school’s reception area.
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh wowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
and although my sister in law’s reasoning in favour of getting a tree had been persuasive and excellent, that wowwwwwwwwww sold me on the tree. or maybe it was the awed tone, or the exhale that accompanied the wow. or maybe, it was the look on his face. how he stopped short. wonderment.
we went shopping that night, got totally ripped off, and the tree was delivered the next day. sebastian and magnificent charles set up the lights after i declared the theme colours for the tree (blue and silver). while i made nanaimo bars in preparation for saturday’s bake exchange, sebastian managed to break two lights. however, his mother, who had tramped around town shopping for decorations had bought two sets of lights, just in case. i also bought some very endearing ornaments that remind us of our canadian origins…little blue and white two inch knitted sweaters that hang from the tree. some identical mittens as well. magnificent and i purchase one new ornament per child per year, and one day, they will head off with about 20 ornaments, and start their own tree, and their little ones will hang them carefully from the boughs…
where did that come from?
when all was seemingly ready, we dimmed the lights and turned on the Christmas tree. it took about five minutes to achieve those tasks, but the look on sebastian’s face was worth it. we let him look at it for three minutes, and took that opportunity to reinforce the DON"T TOUCH aspect of the tree.
sebastian looked, smiled, laughed and turned on the cd playing Christmas carols. knowing he was going to be hustled off to bed VERY QUICKLY, he started dancing. no luck. bed it was.
the little man was on a high though, and 20 mintues later called out, "mummy, i did a wee wee".
of all the things to say, this was the one that would get my attention.
i swished into his room without turning on the light, because the babies are asleep in there as well. the light from the hallway reflected sebastian’s nappy, which had somehow removed itself from his wretched little body and landed poomp on the floor.
"mummy, i did a wee wee" again announced my little boy.
"in your nappy?" i asked hopefully.
even through the dim i could see the questioning look this question brought about. "no mummy, my wappy on floor." (he pronounces nappy "wappy" and it is very, i repeat, incredibly endearing.)
in what is now an expert manner, i assessed the damage, by first feeling around the sides of the bed, then moving my hands inward to see where the damp started. when my hands met, i realised i had been HAD by this tiny blonde con artist.
"sebastian, where is your wees?" (even the guilty deserve a fair trial).
"here" and he pointed to his wappy-free crotch.
and sure enough, there was a centimetre of moisture. i asked if he needed to finish his wees, and he said yes. settled himself on the toilet, and started weeing. requested a book. request denied.
i was washing my hands when he finished weeing, and usually he waits for help in getting off the toilet if the bench isn’t around. but tonight, he leaned to one side and slid off the toilet, his buttocks making a high sqqqquuuiiick sound as they resisted sliding.
when he hit the ground, he galloped down the hallway, yelping, "fismis tee! me see fismis tee!" he stopped short of the tree, and stared until i scooped him up and deposited him back in bed.
i am so grateful my family tree has survived and thrived, and this year we will rejoice and be a family around the Christmas tree.
