Friday, 26 December 2008

You'd better watch out (seriously)...

Some days you sit there, racking you brains for something to write, the blank screen glaring at you for days in malevolent emptiness - and then sometimes, out of nowhere, you get a gift like this:

Christmas Eve. I am marshalling 'Team Princess' in the bath with, it has to be said, fairly limited success - there is great deal of bathwater on the floor, on the bathmat, across all the towels and all over my clothes, and yet despite that both of their faces are dirtier than a Dickensian street urchin. Both girls are making an unholy high-pitched screeching, and the noise is truly horrendous: from the racket they are making a passerby would think I was torturing small animals in the tub, rather then merely attempting to wash my daughters' faces. But it's Christmas, so in time-honoured tradition I can evoke the spirit of Santa Claus to help me discipline my children:
"Stop that noise!" I tell Princess #1. "You know that Santa is checking his list tonight, don't you?"
She stops wailing to think about this. Sadly, Princess #2 is paying no attention and continues to shriek like a baby owl with its tail on fire*, but just having one of them stop is blessed relief. I press home the advantage.
"He is checking his list," I warn, "to see if you have been a good girl."
Sullen silence from Princess #1. Magically, Princess #2 also falls quiet, though I suspect that is because she is just looking for something to fill with water and throw at me.
"He can't really see if I am good or not" announces Princess #1, defiantly.
"He can." I insist, "You know the song: 'He sees you when you're sleeping..."
"But I am not sleeping..."
"..he knows when you're awake..." I continue, teeth gritted, "He knows if you've been bad or good, so be good, for goodness sake..." (I am aware that as I deliver this last line, a note of pleading has crept into my voice).
She pauses to think about this. Now is clearly the moment to strike with the coup de grace and scare her into compliance, so I adopt a suitably ominous tone.
"And if you are not good," I warn, "you know what will happen, don't you?"
"Yes" she says, nonchalantly. "He will not leave me any presents."
"Exactly"
"Instead, he will poo in my stocking."
"Exac...he'll do what?"
"He will poo. In my stocking. When I wake up, my stocking will be full of poo."
"Ugh. No. No, that doesn't happen. He doesn't do that."
"He does. That is why we leave him a mince pie. In case he needs to make a poo."
"Urgh..."

So there we go. A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all - and I hope this year you all get exactly what you deserve...

*This is just a metaphor. I have never set fire to any owls.

3 comments:

max said...

poo in your stocking is better than the xmas moral high ground.

In the moat, below the worms
Merry Xmas
Max

KC said...

oh....now I know where the line comes from in that song..."On the turd day of Christmas, my true love sent to me......!"

Merry Christlemasness to you all!
KC

Misterimpatient said...

It seems in this day and age, poo is, environmentally, the better choice.

I hope you and yours had a very merry, poo-less Christmas!

Steve

P.S. Well, not exactly poo-less, but certainly poo-appropriate. Oh, you know what I mean!