This is a picture of Gina. One of the few dolls which I have dressed for Christmas. She was sculpted by a friend, & was one of the dolls my Mother liked the best, for her pretty face. She has a full porcelain body, & was nice to dress because of this. Her little black boots cannot be seen, but I made those for her too.
The lower 2 photos are very dark, but I took her outside thinking to get a lighter picture, but somehow the day is rather grey, & the flash didn't seem to work.
The top photo, I took inside, but she looks washed out. Not very good pics.
My question for the day is, do you peep & pry at your presents?
Or do you leave them alone, & wait for the surprise?
When I was a child I seem to have learnt, or known instinctively, that to peep would spoil the surprise, & I never ever remember trying to find out what might be in the parcel.
If I did guess, I was always sad to think I had spoilt the surprise for myself. I must have learnt early on, that anticipation is sometimes the best part of anything.
Gom is terrible. Apparently when he was a kid he used to hunt through his mother's wardrobe until he found everything. He is still one to guess, if he sees the parcel, & I remember how the children would hide his presents until the last possible minute to put them under the tree, lest he shake them or feel them to guess what they were.
Our Granddaughter seems to be like me, she is content to wait & see. Little SG is the same, & he is very excited this year, pointing out all the parcels with his name on them, under their tree. He seems content to wait too, & has not been caught trying to open anything.
I often wonder about the Santa 'Myth' & the trust of childhood.
When I was young, I would often walk home across farm paddocks on a shortcut home from school. We lived across the road from a farm, where a family of 6 children lived, & I often walked with those children.
One day, close to Christmas, they told me Santa was not real. I was totally shattered inside, but somehow knew that what they said was true. I didn't say anything to them, but ran off home.
When I got home, I burst into tears, & hurled myself at my mother accusing her of lying to me, & I remember sobbing & saying that she lied to me, & everything was a lie, including God. There was no Easter Bunny- but I don't think I was ever really convinced about that one. I barely remember the Tooth Fairy. Yet some small part of me still wanted to believe in the myth of Santa.
I can't remember how old I was, & I can't remember my mother's exact reaction. Since she didn't believe in God either, it must have been very hard for her, to try to convince me otherwise, & I don't suppose she did.
My mother later worked with a woman whose husband did not believe in any sort of Religion, & would not let them celebrate, or acknowledge Christmas in any way. The woman was always sorry for their children. While other children had a great time around Christmas, hers had no such thing to look forward to, & my mother felt that that was taking his disbelief too far. I agree with that, it is not always fair to force our beliefs on our children. I feel they should have the right to make their own choices, but later, when they are capable of deciding for themselves.
We went along with the Christmas myth. I don't remember our children being particularly traumatised about it, when they found out the Jolly Fat Man was a lie. I think they had worked it all out long before they admitted it.
When we lived in the Hotel, we used to have a staff party on Christmas Eve, & I would go down to join in, once the children were in bed asleep.
After the party, we would be Mother & Father Christmas, & our son says he can remember seeing his father swaying about at the end of the bed, pretending to be "Just checking to see if Santa has been yet"
As children we always put a pillow slip at the end of the bed ready for Santa. Our children did the same. We always got an orange, which I think is an older English custom. We also always got a small bag of lollies. Though times were hard when I was a child, we always seemed to get a lot of presents, & were always happy with our lot.
As I got older all I craved were books, & would often spend time away by myself reading. If we had cousins come to stay, I could hardly wait to have the chance to read my new books. I remember getting Enid Blyton's Famous Five books, & the Secret Seven series.
Los Indios Tabaharas, Send in The Clowns.