Last (and First) Christmas

I recently experienced my first Christmas as a dad, which was Gracie’s first ever Christmas on this planet. It was a huge milestone, one of those moments where you can feel your own personal family history forming around you all.

As you'd expect, it was emotional, joyful - and very, very, very, very, VERY noisy. I’m talking soft play at half term noisy. But without the risk of someone else’s kid doing a flying kick into your kidneys.

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Her grandparents stayed with us, and we all ate around the big table in the dining room, Gracie in her high chair with a smaller version of our Christmas dinner (minus the gravy, salt, pepper, and maple syrup of course). Eating together made it a proper family event, and Gracie always seems happiest when eating what we’re eating - she gets very suspicious if she sees us eating something different, and even though she can’t say it yet, we can see in her eyes that she feels terribly betrayed.

Her ongoing hatred of hats continued with the Christmas hat from the cracker, so this is literally the best photo we managed to get of her “wearing” one. (She hates hats. We don’t know why. And socks. And shoes. But mostly hats.) 

​She wasn’t bothered by the crackers and party poppers, which was good. Ever since the Bonfire Night Incident (that’s a whole other tale for another time), we were worried that she might be frightened of loud noises, but she pretty much ignored the racket. Speaking of which, I won’t shed a tear when the batteries run out in some of her new toys - I can only listen to the same nursery rhyme 12,000 times a day without wanting to go on a killing spree down the High Street.

Luckily I’ve got the Kylie Christmas album (on white vinyl OBVS), so we blasted that at full volume several times, to cover the sound of an overenthusiastic talking puppy.

​If you don’t own the Kylie Christmas album, then I’m afraid you’re doing Christmas wrong, and should probably go and sit in the corner and think about what you’ve done. Iggy Pop is the guest on one of the tracks, so if you don't listen to me, listen to him.

It made me think of Christmas when I was a kid, and how excited I got over presents and wrapping paper and food and sweets. Even though she was barely a year old, she seemed quite mesmerised by the process of unwrapping presents. We had to help her unwrap them, of course, her co-ordination wasn’t quite there yet.

Making it special and fun for her gave me a whole new perspective on Christmas - suddenly, it was all for her, not just us. Writing the label on her first present brought on quite a few tears.

​It was a massive shift in attitude - we didn’t care if *we* had a good time, all that mattered was making sure she did. Don’t get me wrong, we had a fantastic time anyway, but it was a big paradigm shift that made us look at the whole thing differently, and oddly helped us relax more.

Obviously, as she was just under 1, we didn’t want to go overboard with toys when she doesn’t yet have a clue what the hell Christmas is. But hey, we’re new parents, and it’s traditional to go way too far at your first Christmas.

​To be fair, she was due the next stage of educational toys and learning centres, so it was good timing. We wrapped them all up, and she was quite excited by them all. She always knows when something is for her, her eyes lock onto it like a jet fighter’s missile targeting system, it’s really funny.

Seeing her face light up when something new, shiny and colourful appears just makes my heart melt. Three generations of family in the room, Christmas music, laughter, and lots and lots of wonderful mess. Making wonderful new memories. It doesn’t get much better than that. And of course, I was a blubbering wreck at how lovely it all was.

But with all the new toys and lights and sounds and sensory input and educational learning centres, what did she hang on to for most of the day?? An empty, torn, red envelope. It’s the way of babies everywhere, and we just have to accept it. Forget it, James. It’s Babytown...