This was the morning after the day before, aka Boxing Day back home. That's Louis, surrounded by all his presents. Well, almost all of them. Great-grandpa's lamb (Baa-rack Obaa-ma) was hanging out in Louis' crib along with his stripy elephant. And there were a few more items of clothing. Suffice to say he did very well out of his first Christmas even if Santa did forget to visit. (In Santa's defence, he knew Grandma Penny was in town.) A lack of stockings notwithstanding, Louis thought Christmas was great. All that attention. All those gifts. All that wrapping paper. Yum.
Now that Louis' toy box is bursting at the seams, what I want to know is, who exactly invented toys? And why did they bother? I say that not to sound churlish given the recent generosity of close friends and family members but because half the time it's a struggle even to interest Louis in his toys. After all, why play with something that's been specially designed for a baby when you could play with something far more exciting. Like the telephone flex. Or the DVD recorder. Or Mommy's hair.
Given the choice of his very own frog mobile phone and Mommy's, he'll pick Mommy's every time. And as for his special "Where's the bone" soft book versus the dirty newspaper? No contest. Always the paper. If I dangle a toy in front of him when he's on my lap, nine times out of ten he'll opt for my belt buckle. My double bluff necklace-cum-teether has him fooled sometimes, but he still much prefers grabbing the silver necklace I got for my birthday. Today he excelled himself, crawling under a table to unearth an old poster tube; far more fun than his rainmaker percussion tube I ordered specially from Mothercare. Then there's the Christmas tree; far better to grab one of its tempting low branches than a building block.
Looking on the bright side, if LJ is so easily pleased with the various bits and bobs lying around the house, he'll be a cheap date growing up. Just as well given the outlook for the economy and my wage packet.