|"She looks like an angel, walks like an angel..."|
Norwegians are not as big on saints as Basque/Spanish Catholics, but we do have a few: St. Olav and … and … and… St. Lucia! The first a celebrated Viking king and the last an Italian martyr who died while protecting her virgin-hood (please do not quote me on this, as no research went into writing this paragraph).
The 13th of December is the day of St. Lucia, and true to tradition every child under 8 dress in a white male shirt or a fitted white sheet. They wear strings of glitter around their heads and their waists and hold an (electric) candle while walking in a procession singing in the dark.
I had not given it much thought, just along the lines of: fat chance that Little H will ever wear Christmas decorations around her head and walk slowly and graciously holding a burning / electric candle.
But when the evening of the 12th arrived I sat by my sewing machine customizing a white, probably very flammable, angelic dress aquired for next to nothing especially for the occasion. I had also bought five meters of the glittery stuff, and after having checked with some of the other mummies I felt rather smug for my level of preparedness. I had not bought the electric candle though as I did not want to ovedo it and put the other parents to shame. Later I realized that their prioirites were better than mine as they all had candles.
|used to be proper candles in my days, hence the scepticism|
The morning of the Lucia breakfast at the nursery came, and still smug, I prepared for us to get ready. Little H was ready to go, we still had 30 minutes to the kick-off, and there! - Little H stood still as a statue in her special corner for a little while, she huffed and puffed until the familiar smell forced itself through to the hall where I was standing getting ready to leave
After a rather speedy change of clothes for H, she, Pappa Kas and myself were sitting in the car ready to go. We had the camera, spare strings of glitter, house keys, hats, gloves and dummies. And 17 minutes before kick-off, too good to be true. And of course… it was…
The steep driveway had overnight turned into a bobsleigh lane and it was impossible even for Mr.Formula1 / Pappa Kas to drive from the house and up on the main road. We tried, he tried, I prayed, he removed snow, Little H sang and there! With 9 minutes till the start of the "parade" we were off. Of course upon arrival at the nursery there was no parking and when we entered the nursery we were definitely among the last ones there. I put her in the highly flammable but very cute dress, rolled strings of glitter around her and pushed my way into the room where all the kids were lined up to make sure that H got there on time.
Even after reading that note I was pretty chuffed with 08.33.
|Are you sure you do not want to share with your mum? ...|