The Meaning Of Christmas

I'm wiped. Two more crazy days at work to go then I get a well deserved break. I'm ready for it. Today I have no energy to take Ziggy out for a proper walk so I'm shipping him off to mum's for the night so he can play with Jess and Judy. He should hopefully arrive back to me tomorrow completly shattered. I did take him for a walk to the shops and on the way back we bumped into a couple of little boys and their dad. The older of the two, who had hair the same colour as Ziggy's, bent down to pet him. The two boys chatted away to me for a minute and their dad told me they were all going to get their hair cut. They told me they had a wee dog too, called Archie. Then we said goodbye and the older boy and his dad walked on up the street while the younger boy hung back and said:

"And,and...do you know what?"

"What?"

"Sometimes," He said, his eyes twinkling at the opportunity to tell me something amazing, "Sometimes my dog gets wee bits of pooh stuck around his eyes!"

Then he ran off down the street so pleased with himself that he'd told me the most interesting thing in the world. And, you know what, it was, at least, the most interesting thing I'd heard all day. I also had a moment in work today that brightened it up for all the wrong reasons. A woman walked by and, following behind, was her 10 year old son. He was wearing sandy coloured trousers with a light blue shirt tucked in. He had blonde hair that was mid length and styled in a "do". As he walked behind his mother he held his hands up in a mock strangling motion and his face contorted in abhorrance. Clearly he had been brought up to understand the true meaning of Christmas.