This week I have been re-telling the deepest, truest, loveliest story of all. The vicar and I told it to forty-seven unbelievably attentive toddlers at our toddler group Christmas Party on Thursday. Today, I told it again to the after school club. They'd just come out of the last day of school before Christmas and were hopping with excitement, but they, too, took in the story of the mother, the manger, the star, the angel. When I asked them what Jesus came to bring, there were shouts of 'love!' from a lot of loud and eager little people.
After that we all ate Very Bad For You Party Food, but they even did that nicely. Then the sugar kicked in, and we had to scrape them off the ceiling.
Meanwhile, the decorations are still on the floor, the tree is outside, less than half the presents are wrapped, and a heap of holly lies in wait for the unwary. We are helping with the annual Toy Appeal, so until yesterday the hall was full of spacehoppers.
I am supposed to be an author. Sometimes I think that's an illusion and I am really a Christmas Robot.
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