Pookie meauwed that now she is happy as Christmas season has started and there will probably be a lot of nice things to play with such as little red balls, glitter and little Father Christmas' which just look like little mice dressed in red. But this, she stated is normal because it's Christmas time.
Now we are in December and for me when I were a child, a very exciting period started. When I were an adult it was exciting too, but in another way, Christmas preparations and the worst thing, the idea of my parents coming for Christmas.
My mother started fumbling, turning and running senseless around like a headless chicken, had a red head and were always busy in the kitchen. I could hear the noice of pots and cutlery which she were juggling around. It was strictly forbidden to go in the kitchen, to watch the busy ant. I didn't care, as usual I went to my girlfriend. There you could help in the kitchen and leak out the empty pots. It was always very funny and we had a lot of laughing.
Another tradition was to get out my doll house. The whole year it was wrapped and packed in the attic. But on 1st of December my father made a trip to the attic and carried it down. For me it was an event every year, it were just like I had gotten a new one. But on the other hand I could never understand and still don't why I only were allowed to play with my dollhouse during December, because after New Year they put it away again.
I have to say for that time just after the war it was a beautiful handmade house and the furniture in each room was handmade too. My aunt had sent me a little couple of parents and two children from the States so I had a whole family in there. Of course all girls wanted to see that, because nobody had figurines.
Now my dollhouse is still on the attic, but in mine and as I didn't have a daughter and nobody played with it since, I really don't know how it looks like today. Probably I could sell it for a very good price as an antique. (I just stated that doesn't make me any younger).
On Dec 5th in the morning my father gave me a little red carton boot with white false fur. So I kept it the whole day with me and before I went to bed, I put it outside my door. Santa Claus were supposed to come and bring chocolate and oranges. Now you can find Choclate and oranges at every street corner but beginning the 50 it was very special and scarce. Of course I tried to stay awake because I absolutely wanted to see him, but strangely I never made it. Then in the morning I found my little boot full with sweets, cookies and choclate and also two oranges. There also were a book. The sweets I gave to my friends because I were not normal (that's what my father said) I just didn't like sweets and still today I only eat them occasionally.
The little boot I gave to our son and he put it in front of the chimney together with a carrot for the donkey and a glass of cognac for St. Claus. When he were asleep we put toys and sweets in and around the little boot and I had to eat the carrot and of course I drank the cognac too.
In the morning a happy little boy were running to the chemney and first checked if the carrot and the cognac were gone and then with a satisfied look he told us " the donkey ate the carrot !" (this were more important than St. Claus) and stated "and Santa Claus drank the cognac, that has warmed him up". And then he looked at the gifts he got and showed them prowdly to us.
This lasted very long he really loved (and still does) traditions and even though he didn't believe any more in Santa Claus, and suspected me eating carrot and drinking the cognac, he still faked that he existed.
We had to put some presents for him, because in Belgium children got the big Christmas presents the 6th December and we didn't want him to be an "outsider". So we cut it in half or a little less, one part for Santa Claus and the other for Christmas.