Caroline Verdon: Why my toddler is frisked every time he leaves nursery

It started two weeks ago. His Nanan and GanGan picked him up from nursery and he arrived home clutching a book that he’d told them was his. I’d never seen it before. When I asked him where he got it from two things alerted me to the fact that he was lying – firstly he went too big with his story and secondly I noticed someone else’s name emblazoned on the back.

Arthur claimed he had been such a good boy at nursery that they took him to a shop and told him he could have anything he wanted so he chose that book. Part of me wanted to congratulate him on his sneaky ways, as for a three-year-old, a lie like that was pretty impressive.

Another part of me wanted to explain that if you’re going to lie the key is in adding some detail but not so much detail that the tale becomes fanciful.

Then there was that final part of me that obviously won out that instead told him how we can’t take things that aren’t ours. Credit where credit is due, he made up his story and he was absolutely sticking to it and insistent that the book was his. It was only when I turned the book over and it said ‘Shelley’ did he realise it was a fair cop and finally admit to being a bit light-fingered.

The following day when my husband dropped him back at nursery he took him through to see Shelley and made him hand the book back and say sorry, which he did and he promised not to take things again. A few days later Arthur returned home with a jumper that wasn’t his. The day after that it was Playmobil characters in his pocket and after that it was Lego in his bag. Clearly our talk wasn’t as successful as I’d have hoped. We had another chat about how we don’t take things that aren’t ours and how we’d feel sad if someone took something of ours and he seemed to get it. He really, really did.

Only he didn’t because on the Friday he came home with a miniature Fudge bar in his pocket. Again he told me he was given it for being a good boy. I popped it on the side, unsure if he was telling the truth or not and tried to get some more information out of him. “I got it from a sock on a red door. I could have it because I was a good boy. We could all have it but I could have it today in the bathroom”.

It made no sense but given it was bedtime anyway I left it on the worktop and took him upstairs for a story. Saturday was his nursery Christmas fair – tombola, lucky dip and a visit from Father Christmas rounded off with teas, coffees and mince pies. The usual festive affair.

Halfway through the shindig an advent calendar caught my eye. It was hanging on a red door near a bathroom and was covered in 24 Christmas stockings and out of the top of those stockings poked treat sized chocolates.

Not out of all of them though as stocking number 24 was looking suspiciously empty.

Here we go again. So I asked him if that was where he got the chocolate from and if he was allowed it. He went all coy and shy and tried hiding behind my legs. One of his nursery workers were nearby and they confirmed he didn’t get given the chocolate. Cue a quick trip home to collect the now squidged Fudge bar and a chocolate from his own calendar to say sorry. I felt a bit mean, I wasn’t sure if we were being too harsh but at the same time I didn’t want him thinking it was okay.

Now every day when we arrive to pick Arthur up, we have to give him a quick frisk and so far he hasn’t pinched anything else. It seems that the lesson has (at last) sunk in. In fact I know it’s sunk in because on Monday night he was a bit poorly and ended up sleeping in our bed where he noticed a Paw Patrol sweet wrapper on my husband’s bedside table that came from his advent calendar. “That’s not kind” he said crossly. “We don’t take things that aren’t ours”. Busted.

Christmas gift roulette

When it comes to Christmas present time on Tuesday, I think things are going to get a bit awkward in our house.

I did all the wrapping on Sunday night but I didn’t have any gift labels. I decided the sensible thing to do was to carry on wrapping but put each person’s presents in a separate carrier bag and then I’d put an offcut of paper on top with their name on.

That way when I bought the gift tags it’d be easy to know whose present was whose. Great plan right?

Wrong. I didn’t account on my husband tidying up and emptying all of these weird half full bags into one giant cardboard box thinking he was saving space and being helpful.

I now have no idea which present is which.

Some I can give a quick squeeze to and figure it out but others I’ve got no chance for instance I’ve bought my mum and my mother-in-law scarves in their favourite colours and there’s no way I can figure that out.

I’m not rewrapping I’m just going to hope for the best. The only real concern is that as a joke I got my husband comedy snowman pants.

Not the sort you might see in Marks and Sparks but the sort you might buy online at a special shop…here’s hoping that doesn’t accidentally go to my uncle.

I love a festive snooze...

I love myself a festive nap. Our Christmas Day will be spent with a load of the family over, eating turkey and pigs in blankets and having the odd glass of bubbly and then after lunch we’ll open our presents and one by one everyone will doze off.

I love the Christmas Day snooze. As someone who naps every day thanks to a 3.30am alarm clock, the Christmas Day nap is still my fave. I wait until everyone has dropped off and then I leg it upstairs. I get out of my clothes and into my new Christmas pyjamas and then slide into our freshly made bed with the clean sheets I put on that morning and have a proper sleep. Usually others wake up around 5ish and then raid the fridge getting the cold cuts out and then once it’s all on the table my mum comes up and tells me off for being rude and actually going to bed when everyone is here.

Dutifully I pop my clothes back on and head down for a cold Brussels sprout or two. Perfection.

Caroline Verdon is one half of the breakfast show at Radio Aire. You can hear Caroline and Ant between 6-10am every weekday morning.