Ho ho ho, he's nearly here. And Gertie's just about got a grip on the whole thing, with one or two minor confusions. She keeps insisting, for instance, that we must get to Bethlehem by tomorrow. I've explained the problems with the traffic because of the snow, but she's not convinced.
Last year she was a bit too young at nineteen months to do the whole Christmas thing, in spite of my very best efforts. She couldn't get the hang of the word 'stocking', and insisted that Father Christmas was going to put presents in her 'tight'. I thought this quite an impressive use of the singular at the time.
This year, aged a bit more than two and a half, she has got a far better idea, and we have hung all our stockings around the fireplace ready for the arrival of Santa. ("Not Santa Claws, Mummy!")
The trouble is that we don't have a stocking for Gilby as he only arrived in July - so he hasn't got last year's one - and I didn't think of it until today.
No matter - Gertie has solved the problem for him. "It's all right, Mummy, Gilby can use one of his socks."
Have you seen the size of a five month old baby's sock? I think this is a tad unfair. So either Gertie hasn't really got the idea at all, or she is in fact rather clever in ensuring that she gets far more gifts than her little baby brother!