Its going to be a looooong 12 weeks.

I suspect that Christmas is going to be big in our house this year.
And by 'big' I don't mean the $100 I spent on tinsel last year (silver. No tinsel but silver will even darken my doorstep. Or ceiling), or the search for the tree that touches the ceiling (not that hard as our ceiling isn't that high. And it's a stupid search anyway because do you realise how hard it is to put a star on the top of a tree thats bending over for lack of room?) or the fact that I've already made the puddings (although I'm the only one who likes Christmas Pudding. Or maybe precisely for that reason, come to think of it..)
No, I think that it will be big because Jasper is now three, and during the past week we've had
'Santa will bring Archie walking'. (I doubt that, Sparky, but stranger things have happened. My ankle biters just don't seem that keen to get mobile).
'Santa will bring us eggs from the chooks'. (I think that our chooks have reached their used by date. 5 Years of laying and they seem to be done. A fruitless hunt for eggs everyday is wearing Jasper down. Some hard decisions will have to be made....)
Then this morning, as I crawled into bed with him for a warm snuggle of delicious little boy-ness he asked if Santa was here yet. Hard to explain months to a three year old.
But then he asked if he could have some broccoli, which is the strangest thing, as never in his born days has he eaten broccoli, or in fact anything green. Of course by the time we got downstairs he wanted pancakes.
Which is lucky because I hate broccoli and won't have it in the house.