I have Dr Seuss playing round and round and round in my head. And if that were the worst of it, it would not be so bad. But it’s all mixed up with In the Night Garden and Teletubbies. And whilst I dream about taking a bouncy ride in the Ninky-Nonk, it is not a happy dream. I didn’t buckle myself in and I fear I may have a Pontipine stuck up my left nostril.
Why… how… do people come up with these ideas? Is the precursor for making a successful children’s character to (a) imbibe an extraordinary amount of hallucinogenic substance, wait for it to take effect, and then (b) sit in park with dictaphone, digital camera and notebook and just write what you see and hear (it should be a lot).
As soon as you come back to reality (assuming you do), don’t try to make sense of it, just (c) pitch the details as-is to a producer or publisher. Not that I advocate such a method (although Kekulé, were he alive, may well encourage such action).
And whilst my son does not at yet know Kekulé, he does know Santa. He does not like Santa, and will not ‑under any circumstances‑sit on his lap. No amount of bribery, even the chocolate sort, will convince him to sit on lap of said big-fat-man with cotton-wool facial-hair and general ho-ho-ho-ness for photo.
Can’t really blame him. He doesn’t know Santa. Santa does not tuck him in bed or read him books, and son can’t read himself yet so when he opens up the million-and-one presents that Santa has left him, he’s going to think: cool, toys! How does this work? I DO like that cardboard box… I wonder what it tastes like.
I’m tired,
Can I have more cake, and
All presents are mine.
He does not understand Christmas and fat men who wear red suits. So it is hardly surprising that lap-of-Santa is not a welcome prospect. If Santa was dressed as, say… Igglepiggle or Makka Pakka, then it would be a completely different story.
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