Well, tonight we read another chapter of the Magic Faraway Tree by Enid Blyton. Once my son was in bed and snuggling down, he announced that he'd actually like to change his mind on Christmas. He told me he'd need to write a new letter to Santa asking (instead of more wooden railway, trains, etc.) for some spells, a brush (if the spell came in a can, like in the book) and also for a car.
Naturally, I asked about the car. The response? Well, he'd apparently use his new spells to make me really small, then, of course, he'd need to have a car to drive himself to the supermarket. He felt confident that he'd manage just fine at the supermarket. He did check that I'd give him the list first though. As far as driving was concerned, I would also need to tell him which roads to go on. Oh yes, I'd be taken along too. In his pocket. Apart from in the supermarket, where apparently he'd delight in putting me in a trolley and pushing me around.
I'm not sure if this tells me something about how he feels about being a small child and his impatience to grow up. Or, if he's just gonna have some interesting dreams tonight.