I spy ... A Merry Christmas!

Before bedtime last night we sat around the Christmas Tree and played “I spy” with the eldest two. It had to be something on the tree.

Everything was covered, from the angel at the top to the stand that the tree stood on. But there was still one more. One last one.

Himself pipes up.
- I spy, with my little eye, something of the letter S.

We begin.
- Star … ?

- No – not S … M … Ispywimylileye sum-hn of the letter M. M, I meant to say!

- M. Okay … Is it … ? Hmmm … M.
- What could there be with M?
- Man?

- No

- M. M, M, M. I don’t see any M.

- There is an M…
Himself is starting to get giddy. He looks up at the tree. Up at his secret M— thing.

We’re out of ideas. Then I try a no-hoper…
- Maisiúcháin?

They all look at me
- What’s “moshucawn”?!
- It’s Irish for decorations…

Himself is unimpressed with my show of knowledge.
- Well that’s not it.

He’s dancing from foot to foot now. Hard to know whether it’s better fun if we give up. (Like we did when Herself came up with “stand”.)

Then I see it. Glittering in all its Newbridge Silver glory. One of those we got in Treasure Chest last year. Pretty things. Stamped out of metal and assembled and soldered together. There was an old gramophone, a Cinderalla carriage, a “world”, a windmill, a baby buggy we got as a present after the 2008 arrival … and this. This was HIS one. Because he loved them in the towns all over France the last few summers. Would spend the whole day on them.

- MERRY-GO-ROUND?

He jumps in the air.
- YES!
He extends a full arm, pointing congratulatorily at the one who got it.
- YES! MERRY-GO-ROUND! You got it! You got it!

And he positively dances circles of joy, slapping his leg as he goes. He has left the room. Is he in Vannes, or L’Orient or Orléans, or somewhere? All of those places, and further. He is a champion jockey, on the way to another certain victory.

Our money’s on him. We look on and celebrate.