'En garde'

December 23rd

So Tom is beside himself with excitement as befits any five year old. There are hourly checks on how long it is to Christmas day and sleep is not easily reached no matter how calm the bedtime routine. Given the persistent snow (another couple of inches last night) over Edinburgh turning it into a picture postcard and the presence of grandparents and you might reasonably gather than the seasonal spirit has entered our home.

You shouldn't take the silence to mean nothing is going on of course - quite the opposite. Life is hectic and the boy grows in every way except outwards although I think he intends to work on that over the holidays. Tom's skinniness has been exaggerated by the recent move from Advanced Bionics' bodyworn processors to BTEs. We always felt that the bodyworn really worked for Tom at a young age; only the coil to worry about for Tom and he quickly learnt to manage that. Now, at five, not being able to dress himself is becoming a minor bind (he would happily spend the day in his pyjamas)...

December 27th - after a brief hiatus for a period we call 'Christmas'...

And that's why I don't post so much - get in early to work in the hope of getting this done, the phone rings and bang, its gone.

So...where was I? The BTEs are working out well - Tom can put them on himself and...and this is special...he doesn't need to check on his parents when his early rising grandparents are around to amuse him. And take part in duels. There are lots of duels in our house this year. Christmas 2009 is the season of the Musketeer around these parts.

It has been building up for a few months; Tom and I have been striding around the city with plastic swords in our belts stopping in front of shops and museums for quick 'one for all...' moments but there have been down days when other games and activities could be levered in.

Not so now - not since the costume arrived.

For the week or two prior to Christmas, an improvised musketeer costume sufficed; a wide brimmed summer hat of mine pinned up on one side accompanied by a belt and (highly inferior) Zorro sword. The first item opened on Christmas morning, however, has cast that to history.

We manage to smuggle his pyjamas out from underneath the costume occasionally and replace with clothes but basically, that's Tom now. Or D'Artagnan, as he prefers to be addressed. It has taken over his every thought.

I give you an example - Tom has just sprinted in 'give me your sword - it's much better. Grandpa is the king - I'm going to execute him!'

So his vocabulary is expanding in interesting ways and the boy can spot a Fleur de Lys at 100 paces. Not very Steiner I grant you and we face a few days of intensive deprogramming ahead of his return to school but if you're going to choose an alternative life for yourself, musketeering isn't a bad career for a young man.

So sorry Uncle Dave - the bike sits in the kitchen largely untouched and cousin Jamie (we think?), Tom has barely acknowledged the wonderful knight's costume you sent. Snubbed is a strong word but... its time will come - maybe. Many beautiful gifts wait to be discovered but for now, a £3.99 plastic sword and a flouncy nylon shirt-and-tabard creation hold sway.

Happy happy holidays.

Regards, 'Porthos'.

Christmas highlights

So a belated Happy New Year to one and all from one of the internationally renowned New Year party cities... where we stayed home and watched a hilariously poor movie before retiring at a sensible hour.

Highlights from the seasonal period...

When fibs are Good

The morning after the tree went up, Tom woke up shortly after 5am, convinced it was Christmas. Bad enough as this was, we had had a particularly late night that had left us all 'tired and emotional'. Nik resolved to combat a similar occurrence following on Christmas Day. So we got tardy with the advent candle and Tom cheerfully retired on Christmas Eve thinking there were two more sleeps 'til Christmas.

He woke up at 8am on Christmas morning to refreshed and recently caffeinated parents. A win-win example of 'when its ok to bend the truth' surely?

We're all Scottish now

My office is deep in tourist Edinburgh on the Royal Mile. Popping out to the shops for useful things, such as milk or 'something for dinner' is nigh on impossible. Tartan towels, tam-o-shanters and kilts however...

Nik and Tom met me from work on Christmas Eve with the intention of picking up a last minute present or two. Having hit on a good idea that could, remarkably, be obtained from one of the plethora of tourist outlets, we wandered in. Immediately Tom announced 'I would like a kilt!'. Tom is not an unusual 4 year old in that he has a lot of needs and desires which he likes to share with us and, as you might hope, we don't readily succumb. Being an only grandchild on one side of the family coupled with a life-threatening illness makes you the subject of quite enough generosity without parents joining in.

I responded with a rather fuzzy 'I don't think this shop has any your size and, besides, Christmas is coming (no mention of 'tomorrow' note - I was fully with the program by this stage)'. I must learn to be more explicit.

The enterprising shopkeeper overheard, of course, and quickly proved Daddy to be talking nonsense by revealing the range of cut-price children's kilts. Anyway... I challenge you to resist temptation when you know how cute and ripe with comedy potential the result is going to be.

Tom wore his kilt all Christmas day, removing it only to don his much-requested 'supersuit' for about 5 minutes. I think he found it quite liberating.

And yes, there are some stitches to take out so that it hangs properly. We have mothers so we have been told of our gross error.

And finally...

We have a clear case of parent favoritism going on at the moment. Undeserved of course. Tom finds me irresistible and I am his very best friend - to the exclusion of mummy in quite harsh terms. Mummy who does most of the fretting, looking after and day-to-day mundane stuff. It all counts for nothing when party daddy is available.

The cruelest line thus far - 'I love all of daddy, I only love mummy's face.'

A brief introduction to Christmas

This is Tom's brief Christmas interview. A few things to note that might help with understanding:

• We were at Granny's house
• Annabel had a metre-tall internally lit model Santa in her garden. We went to see it on Christmas Eve and I 'did' Santa's voice while Tom checked that he'd got his order right. I wasn't out of sight of and did nothing to hide my mouth... Tom seemed pretty convinced.
• Tom got lots of other things as well as the garage and the mini however he'd had to stop unwrapping pretty early in proceedings. He announced he had a tummy ache and went for a quiet story on his uncle's lap. It may have been the excitement. Then again, it might have been the heady cocktail of chocolate and sweets for breakfast.

Tom explains Xmas from Jason B on Vimeo.

All I want for Christmas is... Cheese.

'What do you want for Christmas Tom?'

'a garageandamini'

The desire is firmly engrained - he shows no sign of wavering and besides, the letter's in the post already.

Tom also has an advent calendar. It's pretty fancy as it was fashioned by his Granny, blessed as she is with a surfeit of embroidery skills. It has 24 rings to which are attached presents for every day of advent. It was in action last year too (and the year before come to that) and Tom certainly remembered its function when it made its appearance at the start of the month.

The routine was quickly established - down in the morning and straight into the present of the day. after a couple of early negotiation attempts, Tom has grudgingly accepted the formula:

'I want to open another one!'

'No it's one present every day'

'No its two every day!!!'

Nooo - just one...'

etc.

He's a pretty good kid and hasn't given in to the temptation. This maybe because, two weeks in, he's learned that quantity doesn't equate to quality and, quite frankly, waiting until the morning for 3 jellybabies or a small toy is no great hardship.

On a number of evenings he has shown great interest in the present at the bottom of the calendar - the one that awaits on Christmas Eve. Tonight, apropos apparently nothing, Tom informed me it was Christmas Eve. Strong assertions of this type are pretty common at the moment and he wasn't to be dissuaded.

'It will be soon... not tonight though...'

'It is!! It is Christmas Eve!'

He then went over to the bottom gift and gave it a little squeeze, his curiosity rising to the surface again.

'It's quite hard... It's cheese!!', clearly quite excited at the prospect.

'Can I taste it!!'

Have we managed to lower his expectations that much? Maybe he'll actually be disappointed when he unwraps the wooden box of animal dominoes...

I'll let you know.