Christmas can be so fraught with problems and worries.
The children went shopping today, and I was brightly told that they'd bought me a Christmas present together.
"Do we have any wrapping paper, Daddy?" Harry asked at bedtime.
"Yes, snuggle down now and sleep tight - you can wrap it up tomorrow."
Half an hour later, there were tears and foot stampings. It transpired that the present, previously hidden from me in the wardrobe was missing a part and it didn't flash so it was 'no use'.
"For goodness sake, Harry, you can sort it out tomorrow when Carly (our nanny) is here. Snuggle down and sleep tight."
Twenty minutes later and the bathroom door slammed to much wailing; "It's no use it's broken and we don't need it now anyway."
When I had finally persuaded him that we could sort it out tomorrow and take it back to the shop if necessary, he unlocked the door, wiped his tears on his sleeve and sniffed. Then the little package slipped from under his foot and fell through the floor boards.
"GET IT OUT DADDY."
Mercifully, I could get a coat hanger through the floor boards and hook it into the rail slot at the top of the tiny plastic bag. I promised I wouldn't look, but it was hard not to see what it was as I was retreiving it from the floor, and before I handed it back to a tucked up Harry who'd already found the part that had fallen out.
"Do we have any present labels, Daddy?"
"Yes, Harry, tomorrow. Goodnight."
Now I can't wait to unwrap my flashing badge that says 'World's Greatest Daddy'. I feel all the excitement that I did when I was a six year old, and I'm hoping that's this Christmas' high drama point over and done with.