With 3 boys under 5, there’s never a dull moment. Certainly never a quiet one. This week B (2) throws a wardrobe wobbly while J (4) starts a deep and meaningful relationship with a Bic biro.

'Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring except mummy who was frantically running round like a headless chicken (turkey?) doing all those last minute essentials. But don't get me wrong, I love every minute of it.

The same unfortunately couldn't be said for B in his playgroup nativity play this week. Though not cast as the camel, he definitely had the hump. The problem? He refused point blank to wear the white dress and tinsel combo. The other angels were all obediently decked out in the prescribed frocks – though admittedly there were a few sporting slightly stunned 'what the chuffin eck am I wearing?' expressions. Our little cherub, however, climbed grudgingly onto stage in his everyday clothes – the only stripey-jumpered angel in Bethlehem and not a jot of tinsel on him.

Was it that he just didn't take a shine to the allotted costume – that white and gold sparkly number was just so last year (12 months to the day to be precise)? Or perhaps he was just miffed at being cast as angel number 5 instead of in the lead role. I should point out to him that, though the costumes were good, nobody actually morphed into a plastic dolly so none of his little friends beat him into top billing.

Still, we should be grateful the protest went no further than a flat refusal to wear the outfit. We've all heard tell of the child so nervous they wet themselves on set. But what of the lad I'm reliably informed of who pulled his trousers down on stage and shone his glory all around? Probably the start of a very successful career on the comedy circuit I'd say.

And while B's been having theatricals, J's thrown himself into a Christmas card endurance test. Apparently, it's the done thing to send a card to everyone in school – classmates, teachers, dinner ladies, lollipop man, Brakes delivery driver, school cat... As a result, J's on the road to developing junior RSI and our mantelpiece is positively groaning under the weight of the cheesy Hallmarks reaped in return. No point grumbling though, next year they'll probably all be sending each other seasonal text messages and I'll lament the passing of good old fashioned paper greetings.

And on that note, I must get on with writing the last cards before putting on the kettle and settling down in front of the Charlie and Lola Christmas special. I may be a mum of 3 but between you, me and the gatepost, I'm the biggest kid of the lot of them.

Happy Christmas everyone!*

(*notwithstanding the fact that, with the Raisingkids.co.uk's editor’s kind publishing buffer, I know everyone will actually be reading this in January!)

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