In Germany St Nicholas Day is to Christmas what the Golden Globes are to the Oscars - a faint notion of what might happen. Kids get to put out their boots and St Nicholas fills them with nuts, fruit, candy and hopefully a little present (this year he brought a CD and a little book for each of them and Karl was very adamant that he had heard St Nicholas trample through the house at midnight, so I guess he does still believe in Santa, even if it's just for the sake of a good story).
The afternoon we ventured out to the English Gardens. The original plan was to visit the playhouse the good folks of Playmobil put up every year at the Christmas fair under the Chinese Tower (to give the kid a taste of what they should put on their wish lists).
First we discovered a new river surfing wave though (the sign warns of entering the waters because of mortal dangers lurking).
At the Christmas Fair the boys ran into Santa. Henri was a bit apprehensive, but when he saw that the scary old dude gives out chocolate he mustered all his courage and had a little chat.
Next stop - pancakes (Karl, who swiftly came to the conclusion that mom's are much better, which didn't keep him from wolving down his) and waffles (Henri).
Somehow there was no shameless plug playhouse this year, so we ended up at the storytelling shack (no plugs, but cozy sleds with sheepskin rugs to lounge on, a sweet grandma volunteer reading fairy tales and a free apple afterwards). Blissful exhaustion on the way back home.
No comments:
Post a Comment