Perhaps these pictures will help you get in the mood for next Christmas (not long now).
My favourite present - as you can see!
My highest tech present.
My audition for Christmas Pudding!
I was having a conversation on the phone with Daddy tonight. He was explaining to me why it was that he was sat in McDonald's when he should have been on the way home.
My attention was diverted somewhere in the middle of the explanation however, so when he got to the end of it I said,
"Sorry Daddy, I didn't quite catch that. I was just biting my finger nails."
"What's the name for people who aren't Jews?" Daddy asked me during bible reading this morning.
"Gentiles", I answered. And then added, "it sounds like they can put themselves on roofs!"
I was listening to a CD of Bavarian music the other day. One of the tracks had some men yodeling (you know, "High on the hill stood a lonely goatherd, Lay-ee-odl-lay-ee-odl-lay-hee-hoo", and all that business).
"Those men sound like they're turning into girls whilst they're singing!" I remarked to Mummy.
I was looking at my tongue in the mirror the other day, as you do.
"It's rather large, but quite nice", I remarked to Mummy.
"Did you have to pay a lot of money for that tongue?" Mummy asked.
"No! It came free with the rest of me".
"Oh, that's funny", Mummy continued, "I had to pay a lot of money for my tongue."
Silence for a moment as I studied Mummy's face carefully. Yes - a twinkle in the eye; she was joking
"Well actually," I said, considering, "my tongue and my eyes and all the rest of me were free, except for my pink skin which was on special offer in Woolworth's!".
I started Pre-school again the other day. I have a new uniform to wear, and, because I'm now a big girl and staying for lunch, I'm also the proud possessor of a new lunch bag.
Don't I look grown up?
A new girl started today. I thought at first she might be a baby, because she had a dummy. But she wasn't - perhaps she just liked the taste. Her name is Angel. I kept watching her to see if she would fly. It's a good job that she didn't because I don't think my teacher would have been very pleased: she might have knocked the things off the walls.
I told Mummy when we got home that I quite liked pre-school but that it was a bit boring. All we did was play - we didn't do any reading or writing!
I was baking bread with Mummy the other day. The flour was already in the bowl. Then we added butter and yeast (we didn't have salt - Daddy hasn't been paying her her salary!).
"But we haven't put any soil in it", I reminded Mummy.
"Soil?", puzzled Mummy, "Oh, do you mean oil?"
"Yes. In the bible they didn't put any of these things in" - pointing at the butter tub and the yeast packet - "just flour and oil."
You can find that recipe in 1 Kings 17:12 if you want to try it at home.
A picture with two of me in it; one of me created by me, and the other me created by Mummy and Daddy. Notice in particular the i-brows.
We went shopping with some friends yesterday. Very nice friends - they took us to Pizza Hut. Shopping is not one of my favourite things, and as we traipsed in and out of one boutique after another I began to feel rather weary.
Finally I crouched down in the corner of one shop, exhausted. My friend came over to me.
"Are you poorly, Sophie", she asked, concerned.
"No. My feet have run out of petrol", I replied.



A new cousin joined the family the other day (a cousin of some degree, and some number of places removed - I can never work these things out with my large family).
I was looking at his first photo with Mummy when she said,
"Do you think you'd like one of those?"
I gave it a few seconds consideration, and then asked
"Would it cry?"
"I expect so," Mummy said. "All babies cry."
I didn't like the sound of that. It upsets me to hear other babies being upset.
"I think it would be a better idea", I said, "if it did crying in tears, not noises. Just tears, " I repeated, to make my point clear. I was thinking of the new baby that I won at a Fete the other day by guessing its birthday. It sets an example that I think all babies everywhere should follow, by demonstrating its feeling just with watering eyes, and not with all that unnecessary howling.
Later on I had another thought, and told Mummy to put an end to the matter.
"Mummy, I can't have a baby until I get married."
I was just coming to an important part of the story that I was telling to my spellbound dollies as Mummy walked into the room. I ignored her and carried on.
After a suitable pause. "End of Side one", I announced.
I've no idea why Mummy laughed. That's what they always say on the stories I listen to in the car, just as they're getting to the good bit.
I was stood in the bathroom with Mummy as she dried herself after a shower the other morning.
"Mummy", I piped up, "your hair is like a cow's udder".
Mummy looked up at me, puzzled.
"Why?", she asked, as she grabbed a pony-tail of her hair, and gave it a twist.
"Because when you squeeze your hair, water comes out; and when you squeeze a cow's udder, milk comes out."
On our way to Tumble Tots every Tuesday we walk along a pretty path through the fields. Today, to pass the time, I launched a game of "I Spy" with Mummy.
"I spy with my little eye something beginning with E", I said.
Mummy looked all around, and then, "I can't see anything beginning with E".
"It's Elephant", I announced.
"I can't see any elephants", said Mummy
"Mmm ... but it begins with E".
Time for something easier. "I spy with my little eye something beginning with G".
"Grass", said Mummy, straight away.
"Well done!", I said, to encourage her - she had been quick. "It does begin with G. But its not that. It could be Goat. That begins with G. But there aren't any goats."
Mummy tried again. "Gate, then", she said.
"No" I said. I could see she was struggling, though we were walking past the very place I'd spied. I had to tell her. "It's Garden Centre".
It's a little known fact, that my Mummy played the violin. She played it today in fact. It's been some years since she last got it out of its box: the A-string had snapped and needed to be replaced.
Today the man in the music shop fixed it for her, and she brought it home. I sat down in anticipation as she got it out of its box and began to tune it up. She drew the bow over the strings.
Awwww-eeee-ooooooh. I just managed to stop my hands going to my ears.
"I think it needs new batteries, Mummy" I said helpfully.
But Mummy shook her head. "It doesn't take batteries."
"Perhaps it needs more new strings," I suggested, "or maybe some food would make it feel better!"
It's that time of year again. The time when, with Christmas still ridiculously far into the future, good housewives suddenly get the urge to start baking the Christmas Cake. So Mummy and I, good housewives that we are, set off for the supermarket.
Into the trolley went the usual currants, cherries, candied peel, along with the flour and eggs and all the other things that I usually add to the mixture by the bag-full.
But I was sure there was something missing. I scanned the shelves, but couldn't see it.
"Mummy, don't we need Christmas for the Christmas cake?"
A regular part of my evening routine is a bath. I like baths. I can teach Dora and Boots how to swim. I can squirt daddy with my Sea horse water pistol. I can scribble a masterpiece on the side of the bath with my bath crayons. But what I can't do is avoid having my hair washed.
"Don't I have to have my hair washed tonight?", I ask hopefully, every night without fail. Six nights out of seven I get the hoped for reply. But on that other night, often, mysteriously, after I have been swimming, Mummy directs a glance at Daddy and says "I'm afraid you do".
Then it begins. Hair drenched; shampoo lathered in; then soap washed out of my hair and into my eyes. I've tried watching my dollies as I wash their hair, to see how they can remain stoical in the face of the ordeal. They manage it even with their eyes open. I don't see how it can be done.
And so from the moment Mummy begins, to the moment Daddy wraps my head in the towel I keep up a constant chorus of "Is it finished yet? Is it finished yet? Is it finished yet?"
And it seems to be working. Hair washing has become noticeably quicker now that I've learnt that the way to Mummy's heart-strings is through her ears.

"Why does it rain, Mummy?" We were both stood at the window, looking at the rain outside keeping us inside.
"The rain comes down from the clouds", Mummy replied.
"But how does the rain get in the clouds?" I persisted.
So Mummy explained about the sun sucking the water up from the sea and the rivers and the poor little rain drops getting cold when they get up in the sky so they all huddle together to get warm again. And that makes the clouds.
And what could I say to that but, "Wow!"
At tea tonight:
"You better watch it," said Granny, "I've just found a bone in my fish". I think, in her roundabout way, she was reminding Mummy to check my dinner. Mummy is used to this.
"You're lucky then," said Mummy. "I haven't had any"
"I've got a bone in my arm" I piped up, sure that everyone would be interested. And indeed, Daddy was.
"Where have you got another bone?" he inquired.
"In my other arm!"
I was telling my friend today about my trip to the Blue Cross Animal Rescue Centre. Daddy has finally agreed to us having a cat, and we'd gone to look for a winsome waif or stray.
"Mummy wanted a tabby one", I told her, " and I wanted a ginger one. But they didn't have any pink ones."
As we were looking around Mummy spotted a very handsome cat. Good job Daddy wasn't there; I don't think he ever gets such admiring looks as went this cat's way. But then she looked a bit closer - and realised that it was somepuss she knew.
You see, about year ago one of Granny's two cats went on holiday and didn't come back. Granny gave him up for lost. But now, when Mummy went over to this fine feline and called the name "Leo" he came and purred to her. She's just got to take in pictures now to prove that he is really him, and then he can come home with us.
Brings tears to your eyes doesn't it. (Or maybe its his long hairs).
My cousin (give or take a few Firsts, Seconds or once-removeds) Leila has being playing with me all this week. Today we played hide and seek. She hid first. But then I lost her, and I cried.
Next it was my turn to hide. I wanted to make sure she didn't suffer the same kind of trauma as I did, so I said
"I'm going upstairs to hide under the duvet. Count to ten, them come and find me."
I was not long tucked up, when Leila and Mummy clumped up the stairs and started prodding around in the bedroom.
"Where's Sophie gone?" I heard Mummy say.
"I don't know, I can't see her anywhere" replied Leila.
"Oh honestly!" I thought. Then, out loud: "I told you where I am. I'm hiding under the duvet on the bed!"
Daddy's been working very hard recently. At least, he's been at work a lot, which I suppose is the same thing. Sometimes he's left before I've even got up. That means that Mummy has to give me my breakfast, and she's not nearly so well trained.
"This breakfast isn't much good", I said sadly.
"Thanks Sophie!", huffed Mummy
"Well, its alright I suppose, but it isn't as nice as Daddy's", I said, by way of comforting her. "I think Daddy said he'll be home for teatime, but I can't remember"
A couple of weeks ago, Daddy went up to London on business (I thought I'd write that, to make him feel important when he reads it!). Mummy and I tagged along in his suitcase.
Whilst he worked, we played. We took in Saint Paul's cathedral, the Millenium bridge (which didn't bounce nearly enough), the London Eye, and then, after a mad dash accross Westminster bridge (and a wrong turn into Downing Street), the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace.
Mummy overheard a tour guide telling his crowd that "this was the absolute best spot to see it all from". So Mummy pushed me in there quick. And we had a lot to see. HM was recieving VIPs that day, and they arrived by golden coach (I checked for telltale pumpkin leaves sprouting from the top) topped with a full compliment of footmen.
"That's how you get to see the Queen, Sophie", Mummy said to me. "You have to be important and go in a coach."
"No Mummy, I'll just go and knock on the door", I replied with the confidence of one who always has time for visitors.
"I don't think she'd answer", said Mummy.
"Yes she would", said I, undaunted. "I'll just go round the back!"