But onto the important stuff: the weekend filled with amazing-ness. Pictures to prove it:
A little bit of Christmas - reindeer in Scotland. Reindeer in my town!
{1} carrots - all gone by the time we got there.
{2} reindeer butt.
{3} more cute reindeer butt. yes, really.
{4} a little boy says hello to the 'baa!'
{5} a little boy is a little overwhelmed by it all.
I was so (so, so, so!) excited when I read on Facebook that these reindeer would be arriving to pull Santa's sleigh through our town centre. Although we don't 'do' Santa in our home (please don't lecture me, this is a decision we discussed three years ago - in other words, we're set in our ways and won't back down on this one. I respect your choice to 'do' Santa, so please respect mine) I was very excited to see the reindeer - as well as to show them to Roman as he is a big animal lover and B was a tad excited, too!
Well they were so cute. And so placid. A big crowd followed them on their march through the town - including myself, just as excited as those little kids, shouting back at B to hurry up so we could get some pictures up close. The best part is that these reindeer are Britain's only herd of reindeer - and we got to see them! Also, they are free ranging around the Cairngorm mountains right here in sunny (or not) Scotland. Read more about these beauties here.
When we got home I wanted to pass out and take a (rare) nap. But my doctor has said I shouldn't take naps as it means I don't sleep at night so I kept my eyes open and got on with the rest of the day which involved B going off to drop Roman off at his parents and us being at home with a very un-Christmas Rockfm playing in the background and me, getting aggravated, with the foil wrapping paper I stupidly bought thinking it 'looked nice.'
Yes, that foil-y stuff looks good. That's how they hook you in. But it's a nightmare to cut through; it rips, it even ladders (ladies, or gents, like your tights do) and well I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of opening up a present wrapped in it. Still. The point is: don't buy foil wrapping paper unless you're a glutton for punishment. A serious masochist might like it. I am not a masochist.
Once I did all my wrapping I patted myself on the back and got started on Roman's presents. More specifically, his stocking. A stocking full of Zing. Of the Zilla variety.
Take 4 ZingZillas...
choose a favourite to stick out the top...
And stuff them into a stocking. Tada!
I fear for these little guys and girls, I really do, because lately Roman has taken to biting into his soft toys for teething comfort:
Oh boy.
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Email: carakirk@hotmail.com
