Santa and the Digger

Someone asked me recently do I ever feel sad or get upset about things which kinda got me thinking (always dangerous).. I suppose like lots of others I put on a happy smile and try to be cheerful in the face of all sorts, but do i ever feel sad ????

Cast your minds back to December 2002, Buster is 4, Scut is 3 months old and my husband is in the US of A working for 2 weeks.. Its cold, I'm overwhelmed and sleep deprived and Buster is being.. well.. very autistic, really missing his Dad, not understanding it and treating me to meltdowns daily at least.

My big sister very kindly decided to come visit us with her 3 kids to keep us company for the weekend.

We decided to give the kids a treat and take them all out to a farm/petting zoo place where you could also see Santa and have hot choc and mince pies afterwards.. a recent blog about rose tinted glasses comes to mind when I planned our perfect day out, the kids all sitting happily around the table, rosy cheeked from all the activity, excitedly looking at the present Santa gave them while gently sipping hot chocolate.


We made it to the farm and Buster immediately took a shine to a digger which was in a sandpit and occupied by another little fella. As soon as the child even blinked Buster was on the digger shifting sand like his life depended on it. Then it was time to look at the animals, not Buster though, he wasn't getting off the digger. Then time to see Santa, no chance, I'm busy on this digger. The others all come out with presents, That don't impress Buster much, too much digging to do.. All in for mince pies and hot chocolate, even the promise of taytos won't shift him.



I had to carry Buster out to the car kicking and screaming (through the coffee shop with all the folks enjoying their mince pies) and in my wisdom I decided to go in to Santa and get Buster's present for him, figuring he would probably want it later when he saw the others playing with them.

I walked in to Santa in his little hut, he looked a bit surprised, looking around to see if I had a child with me. I explained that Buster is autistic and won't get off the digger, but asked could I take his present as he would want it later.

Santa then made the fatal mistake of BEING NICE. He looked at me and said "I hope Santa brings mammy a special present this christmas".. that was it folks, full blown tears running down my face, big gulping sobs the lot. Poor Santa didn't know what to do, the elves came in and looked at Santa and my face and left again, we were both there, me blubbering and Santa in shock. Then I had to go through the coffee shop again looking like someone escaping from somewhere, the nice people really got value for their money that day !

Do I ever get sad ? Nah I'd rather do it in style and get hysterical !

Introduction

Hello World,

Sue here just testing this Blog business, I have lots of stuff to tell the world but first I want to check out how it all works..

I'm married to the fabulous Mr F, and have 2 super kids.

Buster is 11, Autistic , a great kid and teaching me new things every day.
Scut is his baby sister, 7 years old going on 14 and bossing everyone around the place.

Buster goes to an outreach unit in our local school and Scut is in first class in the same school.
They get along great most of the time but she is the boss in her mind and tries to tell him whats what !

I've been a reader and admirer of many blogs over the past couple of years and have been inspired by some, cried at others and have learned loads from most of them so thanks to the community of bloggers out there for sharing !