Christmas in July - well... almost!

Hey guys, Tig here - how'ya goin'.

It just occurred to me that I never managed to tell you guys about my first Christmas - well, better late than never, so here goes....

Twas the night before Xmas, and all through the house, not a Tiggy was stirring - not even a mouse... ha, that's not altogether true. In fact, I have to tell you, my first Yule time was no walk in the park.

Actually, it was really quite frightening.

Dad had been freaking me out all week. For some reason he was getting all excited and telling bedtime stories about some scary old man who was going to climb down the chimney and do something nasty to all my toys!

I was terrified - was Dad trying to tell me that the scary dude from Day Care, with the big beard and the romper-stomper boots was 'COMING BACK'???

First of all, why was that wanna-be Saint Nicolas coming back to my house to steal all my toys, and more importantly - what was he going to do to us when he finds out that we don't even have a chimney???

I mean, c'mon guys - the last time we met that old white beard he told me he had "something special" for me, then the next thing I know...

He's trying to stuff me into his duffle bag!!!

I was having none of it then, and I tell you what - I'd have no more of it a month before my first birthday - Christmastide or not!!!

Anyway, stressful as it was the night before Xmas, when all I could think about was being carried off by the evil bagman in magenta - by next morning I realised that perhaps I had it all wrong.

I remember how Mum and Dad had decided to try and sleep in after getting me up for my bottle and a change of naps like they usually do.

Dad quickly fell back to sleep (like usual) and was just starting to snore when I finally figured out how to turn the television on - *FULL VOLUME*. Then I accidentally set the television to some shipping channel from the harbour with lots of static on it, and promptly lost the remote behind the headboard.

Haha, before long we were all up and about together and having a grand old time. (Sleeping in on Xmas morning is a waste of heart beats anyway).

Anyway, like I was saying; Xmas was a really confusing time for me being only 11 months old back then, (that is 335 days for those of you who like to count). I remember it like it was only yesterday.
The craziness started when Mum started getting me dressed.

Instead of my usual Dikies jeans, diaper shirt and grey hoodie, Mum insisted that I dress up like one of those Fruit-loop Elves on the Treehouse Holiday Special.

Xmas or not, Ma'ma knows I didn't like wearing hats back then but still insisted that I wore a giant sock on my head everywhere I went. Gee's Louise - I was starting to feel like a travelling road show.

Anyway, dressing up to the nines wasn't the part that was confusing me... but it sure was a sign of things to come.

...it was when we went down to Day Care and Mum palmed me off to some strange old man with a pot belly and a white beard growning out of his eye balls that I really lost my belly wick...

Anyway, it's all done now. I've had over six months to recover from the stress of it, so I guess now is the time to write about my feelings before the old man gets stuck with the life-long expense of taking me to therapy!

Season's Greetings out of season you guys. Love you lots, Tig xx