I’m aware it’s only the middle of November, but things are hotting up in our house as the weather outside cools, and the small fella has a moment of realisation that – YESSSSSS! – Christmas is coming. So, the countdown to putting the tree up has begun. Negotiations about which date Christmas songs are allowed to be played on the ipad have started. And we purchased a snowy owl decoration yesterday the boy has fondly christened ‘Owl’. But earlier today whilst in conversation once more about the festive season, I was surprised to find him looking rather sad.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, seeing his face go all serious.
The boy: “Mummy, the Christmas Elves is dead.”
Me, the grammar police: “ARE dead, babe…anyway, not they’re not, what makes you say that?”
The boy: “He is dead like John Lennon.” (We are currently in the midst of a death obsession and a Beatles obsession, which happily for him, coincide in the form of JL.)
Me (Pause. Try to think like a 4 year old and join the dots. Dawn of realisation. : “Do you mean Elvis?”
The boy: “Yes, the Christmas Elvis that helps Santa.”
After another 15 minutes of explanation, we have closure on this subject, and whilst Elvis is most certainly dead, Christmas is not cancelled and all elves are immediately relieved of sideburns and burgers for the remainder of the festive season. I am however, looking forward immensely to the grotto visits this year when he inevitably asks some dude in a green hat and leggings to sing ‘Hound dog’.