IN case you hadn’t realised, it’s here. ’Tis the season to be jolly and all that jazz.
I don’t know why I’m playing it cool, to be honest. I absolutely love the run-up to Christmas – mainly because it’s an extra excuse to hang out with friends and eat miniature food.
But along with festive fun comes the Yuletide anxiety.
One of the bits I find most stressful is the school Christmas calendar. With my lot, it’s almost as complicated as a junior doctor’s rota.
I feel like my kids’ schools are trying to trip me up.
They want my children to bring in a costume, wear a festive jumper or be collected at a different time every day in the three-week run-up to the big day.
With a nursery, primary and secondary school to cater to, it’s a lot of juggling.
Every night before bed it’s like I’m playing the conveyor belt challenge on The Generation Game, testing my memory on who needs what.
But this Friday is one of the highlights of the festive education lottery – the school nativity.
Delilah’s school sprinkles a little creative licence over the story of Jesus’s birth, which probably doesn’t lend itself well enough to jazz-hands musical numbers or current-affairs quips.
Be the best goat possible
You’ve got to get a chuckle from the nans, after all.
Pre-nativity, the emotional rollercoaster is always the same.
Who will be chosen as the narrator or Mary? And why is poor little Billy-Bob a sheep . . . again?
I vaguely remember the huge excitement of the roles being announced when I was at primary school.
I was one of those really annoying teacher’s pets with a knack for rambling on – perfect narrator material. I would have been buttering up the staff weeks in advance.
But never do I remember parents going in to request a switch in the casting or an amendment or addition to their little darling’s lines.
You just have to roll with it. Your little one can’t always be First Angel. And if he or she is the goat, our role as a parent is to encourage them to be the best goat they can possibly be.
You don’t have any lines? Well, up the ante with those facial expressions and wait for the Best Supporting Actress gong to roll in.
Surely by interfering in these sorts of affairs we are setting up our children for a fall in life.
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In reality, we don’t get cast in the roles we want every time. Our job is sometimes to support our friends during their time to shine and clap extra loud for the quiet boy who nails his solo.
This obsession with our children being the star all the time – no wonder we see so many adults with delusions of grandeur applying for The Apprentice.
Wise Man No2 . . . you’re fired.
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