Monday 3 December 2012

Advent calendars already

Hallo Billy Buuz. Mummy's bootiful baby boy! Bootiful, Mummy calls you because you are. It is December now. Your brother and sisters started opening their advent calendars. Yours is there too. Your chocolates are put in front of your photo on the mantelpeice beside the candle. This year your Daddy got you all the same advent calendars. They all have reindeers and Santa. We put them on our bookshelf in the living room. Every morning, after breakfast it's a huge rush to get to the calendars.

We are teaching your baby sister to say 'Santa.' She is funny. She is such a bossy little girl, telling and commanding everyone to do things for her. Your big sister is her favourite out of all of us. She loves playing with your brother too, giggling and twisting and wriggling about. Such a lovely picture to see them all happy playing together. Of course, there is always, always and always someone is missing. That little gap, a big gap, a tiny person, huge space, a puzzle peice from our family jigsaw. The hole for that missing puzzle is worn, the other edges stained with tears, heartache and love, stitched with kisses, nappies, tissues, tears and pain. The other edges lost that part forever and they will stay unfinished as long as they stay in that position for the rest of their lives.

While we were driving to your big sister's piano lesson your brother asked 'Mum, how does Santa come down if the house doesn't have a chimney?' He is lovely, he is seven and still believes in Santa. He talked about writing to Santa. So we will see. There is a post box in a cafe in our town for Santa's letters and the kids recieve letters back from Santa. How amazing is that?!

Mummy didn't know who Santa was till Mummy moved to Britain. She knew the Grandfather of Winter. He dressed the same as Santa. In Mongolia they celebrated New Year, not Christmas. Mummy loved it when your grandfather put the tree up. Your granny's pupils gave that tree as a present to Mummy when she was born. It's a tiny tree the size of a cat, probably. Mummy put the snow in front of it with your grandfather using cotton wool balls attaching them on strings.

Your brother and big sister were asking when we can put our tree up. Maybe another week or two. We will see. Mummy loves Christmas now. Your Daddy says that Mummy's gone crazy about Christmas considering someone who didn't know what it was until recently. Yes, Mummy will decorate the house with your siblings and put your toys out, too. You were home for Christmas even though you only lived for three months.

Mummy and Daddy's new room has velux windows which are on the roof. So it's so lovely when the sky is clear. Mummy looks at the stars and go to sleep having a twinkling thought about her little baby boy in the sky amongst the million stars. Good night baby boy. Love you loads. Mummy's bootiful baby boy. XXXXX 

1 comment:

  1. You are an amazing mother who still writes to your son. I am sure he hears all your stories with his heart from somewhere above.

    My parents used to have the same teeny Xmas tree and we used to scatter pieces of broken Xmas decorations on the cotton wool, which is at the leg of the tree, as a glitter.

    This made me wanting to call my parents. Should give them a ring tomorrow.

    Night night Billy.

    Night night his mummy.