The Poor Kids

I don't even like the word "kids", but in certain moments of stress, when our house looks like a bomb has hit and there are toys everywhere, I have more than once found myself telling George that if he doesn't pick his toys up I will give them to the poor kids. George being the person that he is, has asked a few more questions about "poor kids", such as where they live, what they eat, do they have toys and suchlike, but they have not been mentioned for a while.

Two weeks before Christmas, he came in from the hall and asked me "What are we sending the poor kids for Christmas then?". I asked if he had any idea what he wanted to send, but he didn't. I logged on to ActionAid's website, and read some of the items out to him. He chose to send a chicken so that a child could have eggs for breakfast, and he also chose some books for schoolchildren.

ActionAid's website does say that the money can also be used for whatever they see fit, but George has a lovely card of a small person holding a chicken. I am pleased that he thought of people with less than he has, even during the time when he was very excited about what Father Christmas may have been bringing for him. Actually, I was quite touched that he remembered.

The Life of George

Somebody said to me this week that I should write down some of the things that George says. His daddy works away and misses most of the fun, so, for his daddy and for our friends, here is George.

I would like to record for posterity the little chat that we had on Christmas Day driving to my friend's house. George has been practising and performing his nativity play at nursery. Here goes

G : So it's his birthday today then?
M : Whose Birthday?
G: Jesus's
M: Yes, that's why we give each other presents
G : He's dead isn't he?
M: Yes
G: Awww, poor baby Jesus
M: The story says that he grew up before he died
G: Oh. So Mary's dead then too

Now you can see why I'm trying my best