It's that time of the year when the air is filled with the dulcet tones of my progeny chanting 'I want that, I want that, I want that' at every commercial and catalogue they see. Lengthy and precise letters to Santa have been written, and every adult within a ten mile radius (whether we know them or not) has been instructed what to buy.
Gifts for the girl
Steven and I have been arguing about to what extent to give into Maia's wish fulfilment. Never has a more gender-stereotyped child walked this Earth. The feminist in me objects to at least 80% of her list; she does not need anything in her life that solidifies her notion that girls are vapid and superficial.
The girl wants a Barbie head, ergo I will get her this one. I win.
The girl wants a My Little Pony, ergo I will get this one. Two- nil.
Gifts for the boy
Not as contentious as his sister's. Batman-centric.
I've mentioned before about Jamie's deep-seated fear of bears. Will a poster of Batman Bear change his mind?
Nah, probably not. This ursaphobia is seriously disruptive to our lives: the hall light needs to be on overnight with their bedroom door open, he requires a chaperone in every room in our own flipping house for fear of The Bear. Bat-Bear is cool, no doubt. But this level of fear calls for some aversion therapy:
Worried about finding youself inside a bear's stomach? No need. So plush and cosy.