Christmas has started too early this year, and you wouldn’t convince me otherwise
Over the weekend we went to our local mall, where we met some family members for coffee, and this is what was waiting for us:
This was taken on November 6th, and sorry, but no. I can’t. This is too fast. It’s like the FULL MOON is too soon, and thinking about 7 more weeks of Christmas music and ELV everywhere – ELV, people! – too many.
Of course, it’s true that I have this form of feeling. I’m Not a Christmas Person. I’ve been saying for a long time that while I enjoy the day alone, I feel stressed and, well, expensiveit really is, and it’s going to be even more difficult this year, with the cost of living crisis making our heating bills more than our mortgages, and our mortgages more than some countries’ GDP.
Even if I’m enjoying the “celebratory season,” I’m not sure I’ll be up nearly two whole months, which is what we seem to be dealing with now (Except, of course, the two malls we visited this weekend are just weird anomalies, and the rest of the world is content to let November be November, without insisting on making it December, which is patently unfair to that.). After seeing all the lights and decorations on the weekend, Max had gotten himself very excited. He asked five times if he could go and see Santa in that giant tree, and I’m not sure he really believed me when I told him the elves were just “practicing” until SC arrived in December.
Now, before you accuse me of being the one who totally ruined the fun by telling him that, let me assure you that Max isn’t going to turn down all the usual Christmas joy. We have already booked one Santa experience and one enchanted forest visit for December (Both need to be rebooked at summer, such is the level of demand for these items), and we also have various parties and other celebratory events in the diary. Every weekend in December will be spent doing something Christmas-y appropriate, and I’m not going to complain, because it’s going to be December, and I’m having to grudgingly accept the fact that that’s when everyone on Instagram will start posting photos with the title, “This is starting to look like Christmas,” and there’s not a single thing I can do.
But I won’t take it in November. Well, I mean, I WOULD, of course, because there doesn’t seem to be one thing I can do about THAT. But I would feel justified in complaining about it. Because I don’t want to to see Christmas trees and elves every time I left the house for seven whole weeks. I’d happily never heard of Mariah Carey again, let alone the day after Bonfire Night. I can’t afford to take my kid to Santa’s cave over and over again, and I’m just a little annoyed knowing that’s the battle I’ll be fighting from now until, well, Christmas. In fact Christmas, I mean. It’s not as weird as this, “Let’s Pretend It’s Christmas in November” bullshit we’re getting into.
It’s too early. And you won’t convince me otherwise.
Now, who’s with me?
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