We've been putting off writing the children's Santa list for a few weeks now because we have a surprise for them – we're taking them to Lapland!
When I say Lapland, I'm not talking about the gentlemen's club on Lower Leeson Street where my eldest son is, as he says himself, "one of the faces". I'm talking about Lapland the country – home of the legendary Santa Claus.
We decide to keep the whole thing secret until the actual morning of. Brian, Johnny and Leo are pretty excitable on an average day? God knows what they'll be like when they find out that, instead of writing to Santa, they're going to get to issue their demands – complete with effing and blinding and threats of violence, no doubt – right to the man's face.
I end up not sleeping myself the night before, mainly due to excitement. The alorm goes off at, like, 5.30am and I’m there, “Can we tell them now, Sorcha? Please?”
Sorcha laughs. She goes, “Go on!” and I tip it across the landing to their room.
I’m like, “Goys, we have a surprise for you!”
“Fock off!” Leo mumbles, and I quietly morvel at my children’s ability to be obnoxious even when they’re sleeping.
I’m like, “You won’t say that when you find out where we’re going today! Wake up! We’re going to Lapland!”
Three sets of eyes suddenly open.
“Ronan!” Brian goes.
And I’m like, “No, not that Lapland – the other one. We’re going to see Santa Claus.”
All hell breaks loose then. Brian and Leo get out of bed and stort basically bouncing off the walls, going, “Santa! Santa! Focking Santa!”, although Johnny, I notice, takes the whole thing in his stride. He’s very much a thinker – like his famous namesake. He just rolls over and goes back to sleep.
A second or two later, Sorcha arrives. She’s like, “Okay, goys, calm down or they won’t let us on the flight!”
But Brian’s going, “Focking Santa!” and Leo’s there, “I’m going to punch him in the focking face!”, which is unfortunately something he has a tendency to do when he becomes overexcited. We may need to cuff him when we get there.
“Johnny?” Sorcha goes, wondering why he’s still in bed. “Are you not excited?” And then she makes a discovery that suddenly changes everything. “Oh my God, Ross, he’s got a fever!”
I’m like, “Sorry?”, already fearful of where this conversation is going.
She’s there, “Do you remember yesterday I said I thought he was getting the flu? He has a rash! Oh my God, he’s covered from head to toe! Ross, he has chicken pox!”
“Fock’s sake!” I go, making sure to give him an absolute filthy. “Nice work, Johnny!”
I can feel Brian and Leo staring at me, wondering what’s happening.
Sorcha goes, “Ross, you’re going to have to tell them that the trip is C, A, N, C, E, L, L, E, D.”
I don't know why she's spelling it out. The kids have more chance of guessing the word than I have. But I'm getting the general gist of what she's saying?
I’m there, “Goys, we’re not going to Lapland! The whole thing was just a joke! Got you! Suckered!”
They end up just staring at me.
Sorcha goes, "Ross, don't tell them that!" and then, in a calm and soothing voice, she goes, "Goys, your brother is ill. Which means we're not going to be able to travel to Lapland to see Santa after all. We'll go to see him in Dundrum instead."
This goes down about as well as you’d expect. I think they were happier hearing that it was a practical joke.
Sorcha’s there, “We should think about maybe separating Johnny from the other two.”
I’m like, “What, in case they catch it from him?”
“No,” she goes, “in case they kill him. Look at the way they’re looking at him, Ross.”
And it's true. They're crying their eyes out while calling their brother every F word, B word and C word under the sun. Which is good because it kind of lets us off the hook?
Don't blame your parents. If it's anyone's fault – which it isn't – it's Johnny's
Honor hears all the kerfuffle and arrives on the scene with a scowl on her face. She’s like, “What the fock is going on?”
I’m there, “We were supposed to be going to Lapland but Johnny ruined it for everyone by getting chicken pox.”
Brian and Leo run to Honor in literal tears. She picks up Leo while Brian hugs her legs, going, “Santa, Honor! Focking Santa!”
Honor looks at me and Sorcha and goes, “Yeah, nice parenting, you two.”
And that's when I end up having one of my world famous brainwaves?
There’s a giant chunk of, like, polystyrene in our bedroom, which Sorcha stopped me from burning in the gorden the other day – something to do with the environment. So I grab it, and then 30 seconds later, I’m climbing up a ladder onto the roof of the house with it.
I stand just above the boys’ bedroom, then I ring Honor’s phone. She answers. I’m like, “Honor, tell them it’s Santa Claus on the phone, then put me on speaker.”
She does what she’s told – a rare enough event. I put on the voice. I’m there, “Hello, boys, it’s Santa Claus here!”
I hear them go, “Santa! It’s focking Santa!”
I'm there, "I was very disappointed to hear that you won't be coming to see me in Lapland today. But I'm going to be coming to visit you very, very soon."
I hear Honor go, “Look, boys, it’s snowing outside!”
It’s not snowing outside. It’s obviously me rubbing the polystyrene off the brickwork above their window so that it’s falling in, like, white – presumably eco-unfriendly – flakes.
I’m leaning over the edge of the gutter and I’m going, “Please don’t blame your dad and mom – they’re genuinely, genuinely great parents. If it’s anyone’s fault – which it isn’t – it’s Johnny’s . . .”
But that's when the gutter, which had been holding my weight, suddenly comes away from the side of the house – and I end up falling, head first, off the roof.
Brian and Leo race over to the window and look out. Watching their daddy fall 20ft into a bush has definitely cheered them up.
“Stupid fock!” Leo goes, Lapland suddenly forgotten.
But I see the smiles on my children’s faces and I think, yeah, no, that’s the magic of Christmas.
