So like, I'm completely aware that it's Christmas Week, and I like, totally haven't blogged even once. (Actually, there's two posts in my drafts folder waiting to be published...I just don't have the stones to publish either of them yet because they were both written heavily under the influence of oxycodone. Are you hearing me??)
Truth be told, I'm so tired I'm not even really blogging now. I mean, my laptop is turned on and my fingers are typing, but my eyes are closed. Honest. There's even a little snore escaping...
The last few weeks have been a blur of recovering from surgery, visiting my poor baby niece in the paediatrics ward in hospital, and finishing the school year. Anything outside of that tight little circle has not had a look in, mainly because it would involve cleaning or grocery shopping. Neither of which I have done recently.
But little Asha is home at last, feeding up a storm and chubbing up those gorgeous rolls on her wrists again, so that's one worry to tick off the list. And today I finished my teaching contract, so I had to say goodbye to the group of Grade 5's that I have come to absolutely love over the last six months. I spent today cleaning out my classroom, turfing stuff that wasn't needed any longer and filing all the important gear. And since Jack was hamming it up at (pre-paid) after-school care, I spent a bit of time helping my mum clean out her classroom. (I know it seems quite pathetic that I was lingering at school so long after the last bell, but wouldn't you be reluctant to leave a workplace you were happy in, knowing it was over?? Or am I just pathetic? Shut up.)
So I was understandably a bit mopey on the drive home. That is, until my fantabulous son cheered me up with the best explanation of the nativity I have ever heard. So if you're prepared to put up with my sleep-typing, I'll have a crack at relating Jack's version of the Christmas story. It's a corker.
"Hey Mumma, guess what? In music today, we watched the Wiggles Christmas video, just like our one at home. And it was really fun, because we sang all the songs. And we learned about our king, baby Jesus. Why didn't you tell me about baby Jesus before, Mum?"
*insert brief maternal mumbling*
"Joseph was a builder. And Mary came and told him there was a baby in her tummy. And she got on a donkey and they went for a ride. And they needed to find a place to sleep, but no one would help them. Then they asked the outkeeper, and he said they could sleep in his barn. Then Joseph made a cot, and put hay in it to keep baby Jesus warm. And then he was born, and they put him in the cot, and all the hay lit up and was blue and red and green, like lights. Not like fire, because it didn't burn him. But all lit up."
*insert raised maternal eyebrow, stifled laughter, and careful questioning to ensure further details followed*
"And then all the people grabbed the hay and waved it around baby Jesus, but not in his face so it wouldn't frighten him. And the shepherds came, and the wise men. And that's all. But Mum, where is baby Jesus now? Because he was our king, and kings don't die."
By this point I had realised that Jack had combined a teacher's story of the nativity with the gyrating children dressed as cherry-nosed reindeer who dance in the Wiggles DVD, waving streamers around a "manger", and had inexplicably interpreted this as fluoro straw in the cradle. Rather than disabusing him of this amazing image, I quickly paraphrased the story of Jesus, and explained that lots of people believe in lots of different things, and that the most important thing of all was to be good and kind.
He seemed satisfied with this. I am mildly amused by the fact that he wants to lobby the school to do a nativity play, so that he can play Joseph. However, I am wildly alarmed by the fact that Phoebe wants to be in it too, so that she can be Mary and Daddy can be Joseph. Can you spell Jungian behaviour??? I can't....
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