Putting the brakes on Christmas

Eldest is ‘Driving home for Christmas’. Or that’s the tune that’s going through my head in the dual control car I’m co-piloting because his test’s in a few days and Other Parent can’t take him out. I would put the radio on but I’ve promised not to press any buttons and keep my feet off the pedals in case I get a case of the Michael Flatleys on a roundabout.

Putting the brakes on Christmas.

But in fact it’s all going very smoothly and far from sitting rigid with my hand hovering over the handbrake, I’m enjoying the views as we cross the road bridge.

It’s the first time he’s driven me and apart from the occasional question - “What’s the speed limit here mum?” Er” - I’m just a passenger. What do people do when they’re not driving?

I know. Christmas planning. I barely see him these days what with covid even though we’re in a household social bubble, and he’s a captive audience.

“What would you like for Christmas?” I say.

“Money please, so I can pay for rehearsal space.”

Oh, OK.

“And a surprise if you like.” That’s more like it.

“Yes! Well your surprise is that book about capitalism that you wanted. Oh.”

“Thank you. Anyway, I didn’t understand why we were being allowed,” he says. “Contact for five days then a possible lockdown. Suppose the idea was people have Covid fatigue and to give us a boost.”

“Have you got Covid fatigue?” I say.

“Nah.”

“Neither have I, really.”

“Eid and Diwali were cancelled,” he says, “don’t see why not Christmas. I did go round to my friends’ and collect some special curry they’d made though, so it was all good.”

As long as he’s fed he’s happy.

“Well, I’m coming on Christmas Day to throw you your surprise gifts through the door, and won’t smother you with hugs and kisses,” I say.

“Good. I don’t like them anyway.”

This is a blow. Especially since we’re now in our third decade of hugs.

“So you‘ve been humouring me all these years?”

“Yeah. Well... I don’t mind a bit, but ‘smother’ is scary, not just in Covid times.”

“Hmph. Ok, I’ll restrain myself. For ever. Not just Covid times. Thought you liked it.”

“Not really. Don’t you remember the running away?” he says.

“Apart from that time when you toddled into the crowds on Princes Street shouting ‘Here I am strangers, take me,’ not really.”

Hmph. All grown up, can drive with confidence and doesn’t need a Christmas covid hug? Time I put my foot down.

As he speeds up for a hill I slide my foot onto the brake, just a touch. ‘Driving home for Christmas. Gonna take some time…’

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