The Christmas Tree goes up.

You know what really says Christmas to me? Having a real tree at Christmas time. It's the smell of a pine tree in a loungeroom. Sure, they are messy, and wonky, and getting more and more expensive, but the smell! It brings me Christmas cheer.

We did some preliminary decorating when Fixit first brought the tree home. While he sawed off excess branches so we could fit it in a pot, I found some pretty fabric for the underlay and Cherub got the stuff together for a circular track round the outside.



Then we waited till after dinner and bath, and the whole family including Nell began the decorating process.



Nell is very good for tying fiddly string onto ornaments and unravelling tangled fairy lights. The boys are good at hanging baubles (up to a certain height of course), and Fixit is good for reaching up high and plugging stuff in. I float around filling gaps and directing operations.



Bertie Wooster, however, is good for nothing.



Climber took a hand in the photography, behind and in front of the camera. This is him doubling as a particularly rosy-cheeked elf. I'm pretty sure he has 5th disease (also called parvovirus or slapped face/cheek.) He's absolutely fine, and I would like to reassure everyone that no actual slapping was responsible for this face:



There was of course discussion about who should put the star on. Cherub had been eyeing it off ever since I bought it last week, and wasn't going to let any height requirements enter the agenda.



In the end we had a sort of mid-air passing ceremony so that both boys did the star. This montage shows the action, but in a strange order: basically start at the top on the right hand side and go down that column, then go the middle top and down then the left.



The Cherub was also facing health issues, he gagged on his dinner (he had this mean mother telling him to get on with it, just eat that last mouthful for goodnessakes) which caused him to bomit it back up and he was heard to repeat pathetically many times during that evening I don't like bomiting. Well, who does? And maybe just maybe the bomit wasn't all the faultmeanmother, as his guts have been acting up all weekend (causing me to thank my stars that he has finally learnt the ancient art of wiping his own bottom). Nell captured this last photo of us; rather than saying Happy Christmas! or even cheese! we are all saying Cherub farted!!, and if you look at his pleased but slightly guilty face you'll know it's true.

Slugs and snails and puppy dogs' tails

So I'm as comfortably ensconced on the lounge as that rotten loungesuite allows me to be, when the Cherub climbs onto me and says Mummy can you smell my bottom? And he starts waving his rear-end at me. And I say with alarm and distaste in my voice Why? Have you done a stinky fart? and he says Just smell my bottom and I protest vehemently, I don't want to smell your bottom, but by then he's brought the stinky fart over with him so in effect I have smelt his stinky bottom but he won't get off me until I tell him I've smelt his bottom and then he hops off me with a pleased and slightly guilty smile and tells me I smelled it too.

Ya Ya Bishey.

How is this for a nasty bump? He rounded a corner too fast and clipped the edge of the door frame. I saw it happen and was not at all alarmed because he cried the right amount, if you know what I mean. Then a minute later I looked at him and there was the biggest, reddest egg on his hairline. Wasn't quite as calm then! But he was fine. This photo is taken a couple of days later.

In lieu of having a functioning long-term memory, I am once more recording some of Cherub's sweet talk. In case I want it for Ron. (Later Ron). The only stuff I remember about Climber's developing language is some early stuff that got written in a (very poorly kept) baby diary.
Thus I can tell you that one of Climber's first words was Dirty!!, said with a happy emphatic-ness as he pointed at the toilet or the rubbish bin; clearly we didn't want him to touch. He also said Whassat? (a lot) and the inscrutable Ya Ya Bishey. (Or sometimes Bishey Bishey Ya Ya.) Maybe it was something to do with ABC kids television logo, maybe it was to do with the Three Little Fishies song, we never worked it out. And let's not forget Dubba Dubba Dee which we think he just said because it is pleasurable to say. But the rest is lost in the mists of time and for that I say sorry, Climber.

Anyway, to talk like the Cherub (aged 4 and a half):

• Firstly, you must have a W where your R should be.
• Secondly, if you are feeling earnest about anything you must start your sentence with Well, especially if you are crying and reporting on what it was caused the crying in which case the Well, will usually be followed by Climber ... (did/said/pushed/shouted/stole).
• Thirdly you will get cross if anyone upterrupts you (pronounced cwoss and uptewwupts, see point 1).
• Finally, you will play fast and loose with the F and V sounds.

So this is a fan,

but this is Dark Vader.

He likes to watch a bideo. Berry much.

... and we took Bertie Wooster to see the Bet. She was lovely, although for some reason Bertie had a problem with her, something to do with where she put the thermometer I think..