From what I’ve seen so far, the festive season is very stressful for us babies. The expectations and pressures upon us are huge. I have learnt quite a few things about Christmas during these last few weeks and so I am pleased to be able to share my guide to handling the festivities for all you babies out there….
- Garish and Embarrassing Attire
At this time of year, grown-ups undergo what can only be described as a fashion meltdown*. Almost overnight (well, from 1st December) they become style-free zones, people to whom good taste and class are alien concepts. Out go the sensible jumpers and jeans, in come the garish sweaters and the festive headwear (Father actually owns a ‘turkey’ hat). That would be almost acceptable except that they’ll try and drag you down to their unfashionable level. You might think that the flashing jumper that they pop you into is bad, but wait til they start to dress you up as an elf or as a junior Santa. Parents seem to think that us babies do not have standards, that looking stylish and elegant does not matter to us but they are, of course, wrong. There is only one way to get out of these crimes against fashion and that is through the route of a nappy explosion. Fill yourself up on those pureed vegetables or that milk and you’ll be ready to do battle. (A word of warning, you may need to exercise this approach more than once if, like me, your parents have purchased you a whole wardrobe of festive outfits).
*My parents haven’t had a fashion meltdown. They don’t need one. They have always been terrible dressers.
- The Scary Man in Red
Chances are you’ll get dragged along to meet Father Christmas. According to Mother and Father, he’s a jovial fella who’ll be breaking into your house on 24th December to leave you presents. This in itself was enough to make me nervous before I’d even met the chap; I’m surprised at Mother and Father too. They’re always going around checking doors and windows are locked yet they seem positively laid-back at the prospect of an imminent trespass upon the property. Still, I tried to keep an open mind. But when I met him, that slight anxiety increased to full-blown fright. He was dressed in the most bizarre red suit, a long white beard hanging off his face, splattered with the remnants of what must have been his lunch. ‘Ho, Ho, Ho,’ he boomed in a terrifyingly loud voice. Well, I did the only thing I could do: I screamed before wailing noisy tears. In spite of this, Mother still insisted on a photo of me next to Father Christmas. ‘One for the album,’ Father had muttered, doubtfully. I screamed even louder. But the important thing was I did give him a faint smile when he was at a good distance away and the reason for that is this: he’s going to be bringing you presents on Christmas Eve so it’s vital you don’t annoy him to such an extent you get missed off the list.
- Identity Theft
If you haven’t already, then you will very soon be ‘giving’ cards and presents to family members. I say this in the loosest sense as in fact it won’t be you giving anything, rather it will be your fraudulent parents who will not only choose ‘your’ gifts, but wrap them and write on the cards too. And that’s one of the worst things of all. The other day I saw Mother scribbling something illegible alongside Father who was doodling some poor interpretations of festive symbols. I wondered what they were doing and suspected that whatever they were doing, it was bound to offend somebody (the recipient of the card, I presumed). I was right and wrong. They were doing something to offend someone all right: me. ‘Look darling, do you want to give your card to Grandma and Granddad,’ Mother suggested soon after when my relatives turned up. I watched, appalled, as she tried to foist upon me the terrible piece of ‘art’ they’d been attempting earlier and realisation dawned; they were trying to palm it off as MINE. The absolute audacity, trying to make me look like a moron. Well, I did the only thing I could do: I handled the ‘card’ with such roughness that it ended up tatty and torn. Not, though, sadly, that this stopped Grandma and Grandad taking the blooming thing home and threatening to ‘put it on the mantelpiece in pride of place.’ I was fuming. And I suspect I will be again when I discover what presents I am supposed to have bought for everyone on Christmas Day. The best thing you can do in this scenario is throw a massive tantrum until your offering is returned to you – at which point you can set about wilfully destroying it.
- Slobberfest 2016
You will be seeing a lot of people around this time. For family and friends, you’ll be wheeled out and shown off like the star on the top of the tree (especially if you are wearing a horrible Christmas jumper). People will be clamouring for your attention, they’ll want cuddles, to take photos of, and with, you and – grossly – to give you a big sloppy kiss on the cheek. It is terribly wearing, especially when all you want to do is kick back and chill out on your playmat. Now, the very best way to avoid getting slobbered all over is to do as you would when festive attire is an issue – create a nappy explosion. Trust me, those people who were fawning all over you, desperate for a ‘hold’ will back off very quickly when they get that first whiff. And watch how they suddenly make their excuses when a change is needed, they’ll scurry off before Mother can say: ‘Could you just give me a hand?’ No, this is a sure fire and tested solution. (Projectile vomiting also works).
- Unbecoming Behaviour
Whereas during the rest of the year grown-ups often feel shy about having a dance or taking part in a singsong, all sense of timidity is hurled out the window in December. Already I’ve seen Mother and Father bopping along (badly) to Christmas music and breaking into song. It’s not just them though. And I suspect it will get worse. There’s talk of karaoke and games, dance competitions and party quizzes which, quite frankly, leaves me terrified. No, I do not want to watch Mother caterwauling along to a song whilst assorted guests cheer her on. I am afraid you only have one option when faced with unbecoming behaviour and I am sure it’s not one you’ll appreciate but it’s your only choice: just go to sleep. Only slumber can provide you with a safe escape from watching Great Aunt Mildred have a go at ‘twister.’
I hope that your Christmas is stress-free, with as little embarrassment as possible.
Merry Christmas, from this baby to all you other, fabulous babies.
Love, Baby Anon x