St Nikolaus in person

St Nikolaus, the benevolent bishop who epitomises German pre-Christmas spirit (although he actually hailed from Turkey, but that's another story) was supposed to drop by our house last night and stuff our children's boots with handfuls of sweets. This is what he does every December 5th; from house to house he goes, with his bulging sack of goodies and his weird friend, the Knecht Ruprecht. Kids are alternately thrilled and terrified by the thought of this incongruous duo turning up on the doorstep. Sadly, I have to report that St Nick, primed by us (the disappointed parents - nobody did their chores or tidied their room) left only a paltry chocolate mini-him and a letter behind last night. In the letter, he explained his actions in a not unkind way, and reassured the readers (namely Hedda and Titus; the whole thing seemed to have gone over Gaia's head, and anyway she had already left for school) that they could still redeem themselves and get the rest of the booty at Christmas, as long as they were good until then.

Hedda didn't really comment. But Titus was most uncharacteristically unperturbed by everything. I know why - this afternoon, there is a Nikolaus party at his kindergarten. That means I am on biscuit baking duty and will have my best, smiling, friendly face on - "brush!" - which will limit our stay to an hour before I get cramp in my facial muscles and have to go home. It also means that St Nikolaus will be there IN PERSON, and Titus intends to use this opportunity to discuss the contents of his letter - and his boot - with the saint himself. There is no time for me to track St Nick down and prime him in advance. I'll just have to hope that he is quick off the mark, not like Santa, who is a bit senile, and comes up with a satisfactory reply that will not blow our cover.