The season of goodwill is upon us! The shops online and in the High Streets are buzzing with Christmas fare. There are 3 for 2 and 50% off, etc, enticing us to spend our hard-earned cash. But I have become more savvy over the years. I now make a list and stick to it with self-inflicted discipline to keep myself from going overboard. I learned my lesson the hard way years ago, and now I am one step ahead of the crafty retailers’ advertising. Seriously, write a list. I do mine around the beginning of August (yes, as early as that). And, bit by bit, I find out what the grandkids have their little hearts set on, except George, who is 7 and will chop and change from one week to the next and start putting money aside when I price things up. The older grandkids all want money, so that is easy, and I begin to put money away for them from the beginning of the year; believe me, you don't notice it so much. Around October, I look at my Christmas decoration...
Mission: Toothbrush Impossible
Let’s talk about my grandson George — a nearly seven-year-old with an imagination so wild it could power a spaceship! George doesn’t just play pretend; he lives it. Zombies lurking in shadows? He spots them before anyone else. Ghostbusters? He’s got the gear. Army adventures? Full camo, helmet secured, and toy rifle locked and loaded.
One morning, George’s dad asked the usual: “Time to brush your teeth!” But George was already mid-operation — suited up in full battle gear, eyes sharp, ready for combat. His response?
“I can’t brush my teeth right now, Dad. I’m going into a dangerous place.”
Classic George. But don’t worry, he did promise to brush when he returned from duty.
I still remember his dad giving the world’s most epic eye roll and muttering, “Okay, George… in your own time. But I want to see those teeth when you’re back!”
Let’s just say, Dad has a high tolerance for chaos — and a low threshold for “toothbrush negotiations.” Sometimes he gets a little... exasperated. (Or as George might say, “exstarbarated.”)
Zombie Alert at the Dentist!
Ah, George. A few years ago, during the height of his Zombie Era, he had his very first dental appointment. Picture this: Mum wrangling all four boys into the waiting room for their six-month checkups — already a heroic feat in itself.
The room was dead silent—that classic dentist's office hush where even your thoughts echo. George, ever the vigilant zombie scout, started scanning the room like a tiny secret agent on high alert.
His mum, keeping a close eye on him, noticed his serious expression.
Then, with a very calm tone, George said:
"There are zombies in this room… and I left my hand grenades at home."
Needless to say, every head in the room turned. His mum’s face went from regular mum-mode to tomato red in about 0.3 seconds. She swears she could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks as the room tried not to giggle.
Just another day in the life of George, Zombie Hunter — keeping the world safe… one dental check-up at a time.
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