Monday, 1 December 2008

Lingerie for Giraffes

La Fille has decided what she would like from Father Christmas. She seems to be taking the credit crunch to heart because all she says she wants is a toy giraffe. "Great", I said to myself. "Just a giraffe. Not a spoiled brat after all." They she started describing the giraffe and I thought: "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a real one, Madame?"

She did this to me last year. I had wrongly assumed she was too young to have an opinion on Christmas presents and would be happy with what she was given. Then a couple of days before the Big Day she announced she wanted a Teddy Bear and not any old Teddy Bear but a Blue Bear called Fred. I traipsed around London looking for such a bear answering to such a name and eventually found one. Day saved until a few months later I left Fred on a TGV along with all La Fille's favourite dolls.

So this year it's a giraffe, any colour, any name will do, but it has to have long string legs. Yup, "long string legs". Legs are not good enough. Long legs are not good enough. It has to be long string legs. (Apparently she saw a child in the park clutching such an animal.) I pointed to the photos of real giraffes we took in the zoo and said: "Something like that?" But no. Silly me. Real giraffes do not have long string legs. I did some research on the Internet, I looked in a couple of catalogues, I visited a couple of shops: no giraffes with long string legs. I phoned one of the department stores. Unfortunately just as they answered my brain pulled the plug and down the mental drain went the French word for "string" (corde). For want of anything better I used the word "string". This meant I was asking for a toy giraffe wearing skimpy knickers. The woman on the other end of the phone sounded puzzled, then shocked as I kept repeating "string, string, you know, string", then began sniggering. I made my excuses and hung up. If you happened to be toy shopping in Paris this week and wondered what a group of shop assistants clutching their ribs and rolling around were laughing about, now you know.

Since then I have been playing the Get Out of Jail (and other awkward situations) Card saying she will have to write to Santa Claus and it will depend on whether he can find one. I am good at shifting the blame. This option also allows me to a) buy any old bloody giraffe and blame the Fat Bearded One, b) trot out the old childhood chestnut about "not always getting what you want".

This morning on the way home from school she asks: "Can't we just phone Father Christmas and ask for the giraffe." I say: "He doesn't have a telephone. He lives at the North Pole where it's cold and snowy and there are no phones, no communications, no computers. That's why you children have to send him letters." She gives me one of those 'Oh-for-goodness-sake' looks in which three year olds seem to specialise and sighs: "Wouldn't it just be easier if we bought Father Christmas a telephone?" She's right; it would. Then the Fat Bearded One - or one of his doubles - could tell her himself: "Sorry, no giraffes in or out of lacy lingerie."

11 comments:

Henry the Dog said...

That's right, blame it on the Fat Bearded One, it's what mum always does - it's Uncle Hugh in our house:) However, sounds like La Fille is much too sophisticated than she should be at her age - no pulling the wool over her eyes, I bet. I think you're simply going to have to find one - are you any good at handicrafts?

Jaywalker said...

I'm with Henry the dog; that wouldn't be hard to make at all.

Watch out who you're calling fat and bearded. He'll put you in a sack and kick you to Spain, you know..

Penni said...

http://www.classypawsshop.co.uk/shop/product_details.php?category_id=61&item_id=260

Like this?

Last year Fred asked for a washing line (a toy one). We thought she was crazy and unlikely to play with it EVER so santa didn't get her one, assuming she'd forget about it once she was showered with other pressies.

The absence of the washing line is a Much Discussed topic in this house.

And what she is getting this year, along with a tin bucket to wash and some doll clothes. Santa doesn't have the heart to disappoint her so severely twice. Though part of me feels sad about the fall from grace of the Platonic Ideal of the washing line.

Penni said...

Ha ha ha, just realised the giraffe I linked to is a dog toy!!

Jaywalker said...

This piqued my curiosity and I found this place.

http://www.doudou-shop.com/boutique/recherchemots.php?critere1=Girafe&critere2=&motsclefs=Girafe


So many great doudous! Wildebeest. Iguana. Tarantula. I want them all. The giraffes are not perfect but at least there are several to choose from.

Stinking Billy said...

Are you sure she is only three (going on 14)?

Anonymous said...

I was just coming to post this:

This is actually a dog toy..... but um, I wouldn't know that other than what the site said....(And it's CHEAP!)

http://www.arcatapet.com/item.cfm?cat=13072

When I opened the comments it seems like others have found something similar. The only other thing I saw on first pass of google was a giraffe that someone had hand knit (knitted?).

Good luck!

'nilla (relatively new poster who lurked for several days getting caught up recently)

Ian Lidster said...

Giraffes in Lacy Lingerie could be a great book title. Otherwise, FC with a mobile stuck in his ear? Destroys the image. A charming tale from you.

Paradise Lost In Translation said...

Why don't you buy Any Old Giraffe. CUT ITS LEGS OFF, and sew string ones on? Easy. As long as you an 'hide teh join'. Sounds like this savvy 3 yr old might rumble you.

parisgirl said...

Thank you everyone. Great ideas. I am very tempted by the dog toy. I'm not bad at handicrafts but I suspect life is too short to be making (or altering) giraffes!

Grumpy Old Ken said...

I wanted to send you a picture of the granddaughters giraffe but dont know how. I had to deliver the blasted thing when it was left at my house as she wouldnt go to sleep without it. I know, I know, granddads are supposed to be more sympathetic. Not at midnight on a wet knight they're not!
Ken