Growing up fast

Last night, number one son declared that he knew that Santa Claus wasn't real because he was just "Mummy and Daddy". Not entirely sure how to handle that one as, well (cover your ears, kids), he's right and I don't want to lie to him but equally there's something rather lovely about maintaining the myth a bit longer, particularly while number 2 is only just starting to enjoy the whole thing. I fudged it, I have to be honest, by asking him who he thought delivered the presents, at which point he got bored and wandered off. Result. For now.

Then, as if I needed a reminder that he's not really my baby any more, his choice of party clothing to take to school for his Christmas celebration was a smart shirt, bow tie and braces. You can just imagine the scene, can't you? All the other boys, too cool for words in their dude-ish Tshirts and trousers and there's my boy, looking like a mini version of the nutty professor. Whatever he looked like, it clearly worked, as he was full of stories of one little girl only wanting to dance with him because he looked smart. She's clearly a young woman of discernment. He, of course, relayed all this in the embarrassed, albeit slightly chuffed, tone that only a nearly 6 year old can manage.

Fortunately the little one is still quite happy to be little most of the time although he did tell me tonight that he's "not baby, I big boy" when I said that he needed to put his bedtime nappy on. Before I know it, he'll be as gap-toothed as his brother and off pulling girls at the Christmas party as well....