follow the star

There are only so many times you can be asked by eight year olds how many legs a mouse has before you begin to start to worry about the fate of society, really.

'Four! They have (implied bloody) four!! And an inkeeper is someone who looks after an inn! And that'd be TWO legs!'

Holy Moly.

The infant nativity today. These are glorious occasions involving oversized t-shirts, tinsel haloes, cardboard hats, ever so slightly dodgy singing and very excellent signing. The first time I saw an infant nativity I was reduced to a small hormonal puddle (it was the kings wrapped in silky curtains that did it), but over the years I have become mostly (well...nearly) immune and so today was able to admire the nursery child who fell asleep forwards onto his knees, the king who did a penguin impression, Mary's handling of the doll (licking) and the best impresion of Erialc's signing I have ever seen, ever. From a five-year old, to boot.

Maybe just one little tear, then. It ain't Christmas without the infant nativity.