Richard Hearn enjoys a ‘whale’ of a Christmas

Youngest™ had a whale of a Christmas. (The Boy had a good one too, but I’ll come back to him in a minute). Youngest™ got a toy Playmobil whale from Father Christmas, plus a jumper with a whale on, and a book – Snail And The Whale – to be read aloud at night.

“The whale and the pig soon struck up a conversation”

The Playmobil whale was an instant hit and was taken from room to room on Christmas morning, and brought to the the table at breakfast. There was also a toy pig which had been in Youngest™’s stocking, and the whale and the pig soon struck up a conversation, ventriloquised by Youngest™ about God knows what. (Maybe, the small talk ran out, but they later seemed to go their separate ways.)

Meanwhile, The Boy, very excited on Christmas morning to find he had a large box that made a noise when he shook it, was making up his Lego Ninjago. He was doing this pretty well solo, while we (the parents) were getting ourselves ready, and the Christmas dinner on. He at one point needed me to separate two pieces which I did with a fork, passing him back the fork while I tossed the Lego pieces absent-mindedly into the cutlery drawer.

My excuse for absent-mindedness was that I’d been googling ‘roast Brussels’ at the time. His Grandpa had cooked these two days before, and they were very good, so I was trying to find out the timings. I don’t suppose that particular page gets many other hits through the year.

Meanwhile, the whale was now rattling, serving as an early warning device for Youngest™ being nearby. It was rattling because he’d decided that the whale wanted five hazelnuts inside him, but then we all eat unusual food at Christmas, so maybe the whale got into the spirit too.

These hazelnuts stayed in the whale as Youngest™ determinedly gripped onto it as we went out for trips back and forth along the seafront to Kemp Town, and to the Regency restaurant. I don’t know what its response was to being so close to the water or other (albeit dead) sea creatures respectively, but then I remembered the whale was made of plastic and full of hazelnuts and I worried just that little bit less.

I had my own whale of a Christmas too, but that just means eating too much. As well as turkey being a magic porridge pot of a bird – the gift that keeps on giving – I’ve also accidentally upgraded to extra thick double cream, and been eating chocolates or biscuits at home and at work, seemingly positioned to break up journeying between rooms. At least the whale is less greedy; it settles for the same five hazelnuts.