BY some minor miracle, we're just about set for Christmas.
The big 'un has asked for remote-controlled fighting robots; his sister wants a bike; and football-mad number three wants a World Cup PlayStation game.
Their Mum, who still thinks she's a teenager, wants anything to do with Donny Osmond, who's making a middle-aged comeback. She had a bad dose of Puppy Lovesickness as a schoolgirl and, as everyone knows, first love never dies.
She's hardly shut up about him since "An Audience With Donny" was on the telly a few weeks back. I'd just arrived home after a week working hundreds of miles away, but she only had eyes for him.
"Mum's in love with Ozzy Osbourne," said Max, aged five, as she sat gooey-eyed in front of the screen.
"Donny Osmond - not Ozzy Osbourne. Ozzy Osbourne bites off bats' heads," said the big 'un, putting him straight.
She'd like to unwrap Donny himself on Christmas morning but she'll have to make do with his new CD.
Me? Like most middle-aged dads around the country, I've dropped plenty of hints about the Kylie Minogue calendar. You know the one - where she's wearing black lingerie. So it's all quite clear-cut - apart from the little 'un. He's the only one left who really believes in Father Christmas, and all he's asked for in his letter to Lapland is "a little yellow rabbit".
No problem, I thought. Easy-peasy. Inexpensive. WRONG!
Little yellow rabbits are an endangered species. In fact, I reckon they must already be extinct. David Attenborough might have been able to track down the Siberian tiger last night, but I bet he couldn't find a little yellow rabbit.
I took a day off to go Christmas shopping in Newcastle with my wife last week and it turned into an all-day rabbit hunt. We trudged into every shop searching for a little yellow rabbit but there wasn't one to be seen. Now, if he'd asked for a little blue elephant, or a little red dinosaur, or a little purple horse, we'd have been laughing. But he wants a little yellow rabbit.
"Excuse me, do you sell little yellow rabbits?" I asked an assistant in a big department store.
"There might be one over there," she said, pointing to a cuddly toy mountain which proved unproductive.
"Can't we just get him a little white rabbit?" I said to my wife.
"No, he wants a yellow one," she snapped.
"We could say Santa couldn't find one," I suggested, helpfully.
"I don't think that's a good idea, do you?" she replied. (I did think it was a good idea, actually, but it clearly wasn't.)
"We could get a little white rabbit and dye it yellow," I added, starting to think creatively.
"Shut up," she said.
Since then, I must have spent £100 in petrol and phone calls, searching, searching, searching. I know there's a little yellow rabbit out there somewhere but, with only six days to Christmas, time is running out.
And if the little 'un doesn't get his little yellow bunny on Christmas morning, he's going to be nearly as disappointed in Santa as I'll be if I don't get my little lacy Kylie.
THE THINGS THEY WRITE
THE little ones at Hurworth Primary School, near Darlington, have their Christmas wishes pinned to the wall. Georgia's wish is simple: "A flashing Santa." At least a little yellow rabbit is legal...
THE THINGS THEY SAY
THE Dad At Large Roadshow paid a visit to Zetland Ladies Club in Middlesbrough...
PAULINE Freeman recalled being on playground duty at Park End School in Middlesbrough when a little boy told her: "I've got a French body."
"Really?" replied the teacher, not quite knowing what he meant.
He went on to point out the splinter in his hand - "I think you mean a foreign body," said an enlightened Mrs Freeman.
CARL and Elizabeth were having lunch in Middlesbrough with their children Leanne, five, and Helen, seven. Carl happened to mention that they'd been out for a meal the previous night.
"What did you have to eat?" asked Grandma. "Beef vindaloo," replied Carl.
"Daddy!" interjected a shocked Leanne. "You did not eat beef in the loo!"
ANNE MacGregor was a lollipop lady at Green Lane School in Middlesbrough and a little girl wanted to give her a Christmas card but didn't know her name.
Mrs MacGregor kept trying to spell her name but to no avail. In the end, she said: "Mrs Mac'll do."
"Alright Mrs Macildoo," replied the little girl.
AND, finally, a teacher wanted to get to know his new class better so he asked the children what their dads did for a living.
Tommy said his dad was a postman. Billy said his dad was a policeman. Kenneth said his dad was a stripper in a nightclub.
At the end of school, the teacher called Kenneth over and asked: "Is your dad really a stripper in a nightclub?"
"No," replied the boy, "he plays for Sunderland but I didn't want anyone to know."
P.S. Thanks to Boro fan Flo Tanfield for the above joke.
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