It is that time of year again. The requests come thick and fast in the book bag ahead of the school event of the year – the Christmas Play. Brown tights, reindeer antlers (“no bells”) or Father Christmas hats must all be in school within the week. A trip to Woolworths beckons – what will we do without them. Parents up and down the country are making a mad dash around the shops competing over the last pair of green tights for their precious elves. Then comes the thankless task of counselling their little boys into wearing them, insisting that elves definitely can’t wear Spiderman socks.
Last week, my daughter arrived home in a state of extreme excitement. She could barely get the words out fast enough about the school play and what she needed to bring in. As usual, it is the highlight of her year and she rehearses as if she is about to hit the West End stage in mid-December. “I have to buy a Father Christmas hat by Monday,” she says. But it is only Friday November 21st and we have a very busy weekend ahead of us. By bedtime, she has mentioned it another six times and urges me to re-arrange my busy weekend schedule to squeeze in a shopping trip. She assures me that she recently spotted a Father Christmas hat at the checkout of a nearby shop. Later, I rummage through the book bag for precise instructions, only to find it empty. Clearly she was ahead of the game and thrown into action before her teacher had time to draft and print the crucial costume request to parents.
On Saturday, we dashed out to buy the crucial hat. After trawling round three shops it soon became clear that other Dorset elves had beaten us to it. By this stage, she was distraught. “I’ll get told off if I don’t bring it in on Monday. You simply HAVE to find one Mummy,” she cried. I too was beginning to feel under pressure. Perhaps I should have bought the one I had spotted the night before on the Internet and paid for Special Delivery. We continued on with our search and finally we found one whereupon we threw our arms round each other in elf-like delight.
Yesterday, my daughter came back from school with a letter from her teacher. It was a very jolly letter kindly asking us to bring a, “woolly hat to school by Monday 8th December.” I re-read it. It definitely says a woolly hat, not a Father Christmas hat, and it really does say 8th December, not 24th November? “Well, it’s still a hat and it’s better to be ready early,” says my daughter.
