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Where art thou, Mother Christmas?

As part of Georgia’s stalling-going-to-bed routine tonight said she wanted to read me a poem. She opened up a Roald Dahl book and began….
Where are thou, Mother Christmas?
I only wish I knew
Why Father should get all the praise
And no-one mentions you.
I’ll bet you buy the presents
And wrap them large and small
While all the time that rotten swine
Pretends he’s done it all.

So Hail to Mother Christmas
Who shoulders all the work!
And down with Father Christmas,
That unmitigated jerk!

This poem, so I am told by a 7-year-old bed dodger, was sold on Christmas cards to raise funds for the Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital in England.
In the Christmas spirit, I took these next photographs of the beautiful D family at a Christmas shoot back in early November, although it seems like an eternity ago now.
Ho ho ho – Merry Christmas everyone….and don’t forget it’s not all about the main man. Spare a thought for Mother Christmas too!
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