There’s something utterly irresistible about fairy lights isn’t there. In the grey days of winter they sparkle away into the gloom, lightening the darkness, and bringing a bit of festive cheer. I love them. To the extent that we had a string of lights up in our lounge all the way through last Christmas, the spring, and most of the summer, until the final string in the collection died with one last glimmer of blue and green.
And now that we’ve made it to December we may have gone a little light-happy (again). There’s a string of icicle lights down one side of the lounge, two loops of multi-coloured lights to go somewhere, and two massive strings of nice new (and half-price) led lights for the tree. It’s entirely possible that we’re not going to need to use the main lounge lights until 6th January. This is what happens when H and I go shopping independently.
But if we love it, if it lifts our spirits and makes us smile, it’s nothing to the joy and wonder of two tiny girls.
When we were playing around with the lights earlier in the week I strung our icicles along the back of Kitty’s bed as an impromptu photo studio, and herded the girls upstairs with the promise of a magical surprise. Kitty ran ahead and from the high pitched squeaky noises that came around the corner I think she rather liked it. But Elma’s reaction was just the sweetest; she crawled around the corner and then suddenly her bottom wiggled and she shot into Kitty’s room at baby super-speed. She climbed up onto Kit’s bed and just say there, gazing around her, utterly mesmerised.
After a minute or so her sister’s chatter brought her back to earth and she turned around to both of us with an enormous smile and five little pudgy fingers outstretched pointing to the lights;
Yes, my sweet, “Dat” is pretty cool indeed.
The icicle string was long enough to run to the end of Kitty’s cot and back again and just a bit too brilliant to be a permanent feature, but Kitty’s slightly folorn face when we took them back down to the lounge gave us a little idea. I love little ideas.
Enter a battery powered set of 20 pink LED bulbs that somehow just snuck into the supermarket trolley, a little girl who slept a smidgen later than her sister, and a father with a strong sense of Christmas magic.
Kitty usually sleeps with her light on, but dimmed as low as it will go before it’s off, so there’s always some light in her room. And while Elma and I snoozed and nursed and snoozed again, H unpacked the lights, fitted the battery, and on the tippiest of tippy toes, snuck in and arranged them along the end of her bed.
There’s a Kitty asleep under all of those quilts, blankies and teddies I promise.
Twenty minutes later she woke up, and came bursting into our room with shining eyes;
“Look Daddy! Look! There’s lights!”
He was duly hauled off to inspect. And in among the jumping around and the chatter of excitement, came a determined little voice:
“Come on Mummy! Come and see my lights! Mummy!”
And so that is how we started our day, sat on the floor of our biggest girl’s room, while pink LEDs lit up the sort of smiles that Christmas is made of.