The one that's not about Christmas...

I am SO, in the manner of Chandler Bing, not ready for Christmas.

We have bought stuff. We have even wrapped some stuff. We have even, dare I say it, sent out a few cards to school, work and nursery. But I haven't written or posted cards for my family and friends. I haven't finished shopping for my husband; nor feel that the things that I have got, that, let's be honest here, he's bought himself on eBay and given me to give him back, are sufficiently amazing, wonderful and Christmassy enough to win the prize of "best present bought by a wife for her husband" this year.

What else have't I done, since I am in a glass half empty mood? I haven't worked out the annual Christmas card conundrum of "where can I hang or position the multiplying Christmas cards without them a) falling over every time I so much as breathe or b) marking the walls with blu-tac, nails or sticky tape?"

I haven't worked out how to feel Christmassy with the pressure of having to keep Christmas presents hidden in a house with two very inquisitive girls aged 6 and 4 respectively peering around your trouser leg every two minutes.

I haven't remembered to get the girls new snow boots in case of bad weather next week. Not really relevant to Christmas, but since I'm writing a list of "haven'ts" lets include it anyway in the hope it somehow reminds me to get them some, even if it's via a swift online order....

I have, though, managed to somehow become fed up with Michael Buble's Jingle Bells, since it's my daughters favourite and therefore is played pretty much on repeat in the car. Not something to moan about maybe... But slightly less heart-warming when it can't be played without the girls singing the girls part and them both insisting I adopt the role of Mr Buble and put on my best deep singing voice. I must swop that CD just for a days reprieve!

So this post isn't at all about Christmas, since I am not ready, or properly in the mood for that yet. It's actually about changing rooms.

Changing rooms at the swimming pool to be precise. I have a query that I'd like to hear your views on. Which changing room should parents take their children into? The girls; if the parent is the woman, regardless of the gender or age of the child? Or the girls, if the child is a girl, regardless of the gender of the parent? The same two options apply to boys.... The boys changing room, if the parent is male regardless of the gender of the child, or the boys if the child is a boy, regardless of the gender of the parent? And does the age of the child that's being accompanied make a difference?

And does the rule apply the same way for the use of toilets in shopping centres and malls, or is it somehow different?

Fancy thinking about something other than Christmas? Then let me know your thoughts.

I NEED THE TOILET DADDY!

We are at the seaside and my hubby has taken the eldest out to swim in the sea. 

It's a lovely large sandy beach and the water is not particularly deep and it stays so for quite a while, providing a very large area for swimming and splashing and lounging about on lilos (if so inclined) quite safely.  

She, the 6 year old, is swimming with an inflatable ring around her waist for ease.  He's encouraging her to kick her legs and practice her swimming strokes as she's been taking lessons.
 
They've been in the sea a fair while, so it's not entirely unexpected when she says:
 
"I need the toilet, daddy"
 
Daddy does what, let's face it, most daddy's would do when faced with this question at nearly a hundred yards from the shore. He explains, in hushed tones, that it's really alright to go to the toilet out in the sea when you are that far out.  After all; it's all very natural and no-one will ever know.  And of course, it saves him rushing her in to the beach and up to the hotel.
 
A few minutes later she grins and says; "Done it!" and carries on swimming.  
 
Daddy is pleased with his parenting skill so far in, what could have been a taxing situation.
 
They swim some more.
 
And Daddy catches sight of a leaf in the sea.  
 
He thinks it's odd, being so far out, so he looks a little more closely.  
 
It's not a leaf.
 
Daddy wasn't entirely specific enough when he explained what was acceptable in the sea.  In fact he really ought to have explained what was and what wasn't.
 
He quickly moved away from the floating 'leaf' and said to her urgently.
 
"Did you just have a wee wee, dear?"
 
"No daddy" she says, sweet and innocent as pie. "I did a poo poo too" she adds proudly.
 
Parenting skills have taken a blow.  Daddy knows he needs a quick recovery.  Clean up will be required if he has any hope of keeping this minor error a secret. He whispers to her that actually it's not really good form to do 'those' in the sea, and he gets her to quickly whip off her swimsuit so that he can 'clean it out'.  
 
They are a long way out, and there's a lot of space around them, so hopefully no one will notice.
 
He cleans the swimsuit up, scrapping them out with his hands (euuuwww), and pops them back on her and looks around them to check if he's got away with it. 
 
A fellow is floating quite close to them now on a lilo, but other than that, there isn't anyone particularly close by.  

He thinks they've got away with it.
 
That is until he spies, out of the corner of his eyes, the man on the lilo suddenly flinch, and start back-peddling quickly in the opposite direction.
 
I guess the 'leaf' was heading his way......
 

I am lucky to have such an honest husband that, in the interests of providing bloggable material he felt he really couldn't keep this secret, well, a secret.