Of late Mr OAP has been ill, so jolly jaunts have been kept to a minimum, which has been reflected in the 4 year old AKA The Caged Animal’s behaviour.  He has been returning home with excessive energy and has spent long periods of time bouncing on the trampoline and riding his bike when the sun is shining.  When the rain is pouring he paces the house crying and being incredibly grumpy.

So, as I got out of the car, and joined them for the short walk to school, I excitedly asked where they had been.

Me “Ooh, looks like you’ve been out, it’s been lovely weather too.  Anywhere nice?”

Mrs OAP “Rheumatology”

And with that I took my boy by the hand and knew we were in for a long night of bouncing.

Before we went people kept asking me if I’d bought a portable DVD player for the children. I would look at them horrified. Why would I need a portable DVD player when I had spent endless hours thinking up ‘fun’ activities, packing exciting books and thinking up a myriad of entertaining songs?

I never had a portable DVD player when my parents used to take me on ‘adventures’ through deepest darkest Spain … no, I thought up my own entertainment.

Of course three hours into our journey to France I would have given my kidney, a leg and possibly an eyeball to have one to thrust at them and drown out their whining voices.

Anyway, they would sleep for at least 12 of the 24 hours, wouldn’t they?  Err, no.  They would sleep for approximately one hour each during the entire journey … and not at the same time.

So, instead of buying a portable DVD player I simply vowed never to travel great distances with the children again. Sometimes a trip to Tesco is too far.

My latest problem comes in the form of a Nintendo DS. The 5 year old has wanted one, well … forever really.  Having a teenage sister who spent 3 years glued to hers shortly before she discovered mascara and skinny jeans just made the need even greater.

Imagine the look on her face last Christmas when she realised that Santa hadn’t been able to read her writing properly on her letter to him.  She got a pony which moves it’s neck, eats carrots, flutters it’s eyelashes and neighs … like a real horse.   “I cannot believe that Santa didn’t bring me a Nintendo DS. What was he thinking?” Followed by a big sigh and her head in her hands.

Her birthday came and went, with no DS but a poxy trampoline that her brother LOVES.  She thinks this is it, this is the year.  She has been practicing her Christmas list since the blip last year and she’s ready.  There WILL be one this year, of that she is sure.

It’s not that I am against modern technology or being a big old meanie but I know my daughter well. I love that she spends hours singing to herself in her bedroom whilst drawing, or chattering to herself in a make believe world or playing in the garden for hours with only her brother and her imagination.

I just don’t want the arguments about how much time she spends staring at it with a glazed expression, we have Cbeebies for that.

But I have been taken in, I am faltering. I am torn, my head is screaming “Noooooooooooooo!”, my heart is telling me that if I don’t she will never forgive Santa and then her make-believe world will come crashing down round her ears anyway.

After all EVERYONE else has one.

So, this is it, I’m giving in.  This could be the 5 year old’s best Christmas yet.

Oh and I’ve remembered what I used to do for entertainment in the back of the car during our adventures in Spain circa 1985. I used to either sing the tune from the ‘Trio’ or the ‘Um Bongo’ adverts on repeat … OR … pretend that my parents had kidnapped me and wave through the back window at other drivers in a demented fashion … and we can’t be having that.

Once home the crying subsided, he ate some chocolate and went off to play on the trampoline.   This confirmed that he hadn’t broken anything and I didn’t have to spend 4 hours waiting in A&E whilst he jumped off the furniture.

Later he wanted to watch TV and got snuggled up on the sofa with Lulu. 

I sat next to him and he put his feet on my lap.  I gave his feet a tickle and he said …

“Hit my feet like Grandpa does”

So I patted his feet gently.

“NO!  Harder like Grandpa does and on the bottom” he demanded.

So I slapped the soles of his feet as he relaxed and watched Mister Maker.

or

The 5 year old sitting for hours on end staring at our neighbour’s house like a professional stalker willing their youngest daughter to come out and play;

or

The neighbours eating their dinner in their dining room which overlooks our backyard whilst the 3 year old strips naked, gets on the trampoline and does star jumps (LITERALLY).

4 year old - 1st birthday = toddler slide, 2nd birthday = toddler trampoline, 3rd birthday = big slide, 4th birthday = 2 seated swing.

This birthday we are thinking a big trampoline. We were thinking guinea pig but how much fun can you have with a guinea pig compared to a trampoline … and why do I keep wanting to type trumpoline and snigger like a 4 year old?

Luckily, whatever the 4 year old gets for her birthday is bought with the two of them using it together in mind.

How bad is ‘second child with Winter birthday syndrome’ in this house?

Well, let me tell you, my poor poor boy …

3 year old - 1st birthday = can’t remember, 2nd birthday = nope, it escapes me, 3rd birthday = Sportacus dressing up outfit … which I kept back from Christmas.

The 3 year old’s birthday is just over a month after Christmas. It’s around the time we remove batteries from irritating Christmas presents (usually bought by someone with no children) and pretend they don’t work anymore … It’s around the time we stuff things in charity bags to make room for the excess Christmas presents … It’s shared with the husband.

He really doesn’t seem to notice though. He had a party this year and last (see, not such a bad mother) … with cake (not homemade … did you see the muffins?).  But, I do think in a year or two we really need to address the second child winter birthday issue.

Until then he can share in his sister’s ‘first born summer birthday lucky bugger syndrome’.

Thank god we’re not having any more children … what on earth would ‘third child, can’t remember your name let alone your birthday’ get?