Naughty or nice

I was commenting to English hubby the other day how sweet and helpful Sweetpea has been lately - clearing the table without being asked, offering to load the dishwasher, using her best manners when I compliment her on how well she's doing something. And in his inimitable way, he reminded me that with 7 days to go until Santa's arrival, she's not taking any chances with the naughty or nice part of the deal. Dang. I prefer to remain optimistic however, and believe that this excellent behaviour is permanent.

I've been working hard on my own Santa karma lately. I took Sweetpea, with friends, to a very sweet performance of the Nutcracker last weekend in the city. Since she has been asking for a Nutcracker doll from Santa since the day after Christmas LAST year, I thought that my Santa gift buying was going to be a breeze. "Hey honey, look at all the Nutcracker dolls on this shelf - which one do you think Santa is going to make for you?" (I'm sneaky like that) After the perfect blue sparkled soldier was duly pointed at, I had my friend buy it and whisk it into her bag for later delivery.

It was only the next morning that the perfect plan went into a tailspin. "Mumma. Do you think Santa has started painting my Nutcracker doll yet? Because I think I want the silvery snowy one instead." (crap) Although I gently tried to sway her, she was not to be swayed. In fact, for the first time EVER, she decided that we needed to write Santa a letter just to clarify which Nutcracker she wanted, since she hadn't specified when she saw him in person.

How could I disappoint? So I drove back to the city, to the last performance they were giving on Sunday night, talked my way in the door without a ticket and you know the next part, right?

They were sold out of the shiny sparkly silver nutcracker.

I got the friend who snuck out the sparkly BLUE doll to check the box for a website. I went to the website. Sold out. I searched the World Wide Web (that names inspires a feeling of trust that somewhere in the wide world something might be found, correct?), but I came up with NOTHING. I called local stores, I tore my hair out.

Finally, I remembered a small Christmas-themed shop in a nearby town and took my coughing hacking self there (doesn't this story get better and better?) only to find a GOLD sparkly doll. Without hope, I asked if they might have a silver one, to which my new best friend pulled out from under the counter THE.LAST.SHINY.SPARKLY.SILVER.NUTCRACKER in the entire universe. I handed over my credit card without even asking the price.

My shopping is done. I can give in to the coughing/gargling/sneezy cold to end all colds and await the joyous festivities.

This is pretty much what we've been doing lately (on this occasion specifically while I was driving into the city like a madwoman in pursuit of the perfect friggin' Nutcracker). Lie on Daddy (or Mummy) and watch Mickey Mouse/Donald Duck Christmas cartoons. Works for me.