The anticipation of Father Christmas arriving made bedtime on Christmas Eve more stressful then normal. Our two oldest children were keen to go to bed early so that their presents would be delivered but our youngest son had other ideas. His stocking was put under the Christmas tree as he didn't want Father Christmas entering his bedroom. Then he decided he couldn't sleep in his bedroom and wanted to stay downstairs. This was not helping with my plan of laying the presents under the tree without little eyes watching. We let him watch a film in the hope that he would fall asleep but instead he woke up more!! By 9.30pm he asked if he should go to sleep to which we both answered yes!! It was 11pm before he gave in and Father Christmas could deliver his presents.
At 12.45am our eldest son came bouncing into our bedroom to say that Father Christmas had filled the stocking at the end of his bed. I quickly told him to go back to bed for a bit longer and then was woken up again at 1am by my mobile phone beeping. It was our daughter texting me to wish me a Merry Christmas. I discovered the next day that she had texted everyone on her contact list at 1am!! As she was awake she thought everyone else should be.
By 6am our three children were all awake and desperate to go downstairs and see what Father Christmas had left for them. As soon as our youngest son walked downstairs he saw his stunt scooter so he was happy to ride around the house whilst his siblings enjoyed unwrapping their presents.
Our living room is normally filled with sensory toys and we have now gained a few more in the shape of moon shoes, wobble deck, fidget toys and a keyboard.
By lunchtime the anxiety levels were rising again and our youngest son was not going to join us for Christmas dinner. Some battles are not worth having so we let him choose what he wanted to eat - mini eggs and sausage roll. Not your typical Christmas dinner but he was happy. Then the rest of the day was spent in meltdown with shouting, screeching, sobbing and hiding under things so that he felt secure. By early evening our youngest son was calm again sitting on a rocking chair chewing a chewy stixx and squeezing a light up ball. He was happy and that is all that matters.
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