I buy into Christmas as a season hard. I love the colours, the lights, the treats, the seasonal coffees, the songs on a loop, the presents, the pantomimes. I love it all.

Its orchestration however, now that I am no longer its young beneficiary is, I can’t deny, a lot. My awkward hands are not made for wrapping copious presents. So this year, we’ve scaled back the number of gifts we intend to give and I have found thick kraft wrapping paper, printed with bright Christmassy inkings that folds really well, hurrah.

My own mum struggled, I think, to deliver the magic of Christmas. It was one hell of an expectation every year on our shoestring budget. And yet, Christmas is my fondest childhood memory. Tacky tinsel and Christmas lights all over the tree we bought out every year, adorned with the same ornaments, some handmade by my older siblings, lovingly placed every year.

The obligatory Christmas pop songs would blare from our tape deck (Last Christmas by Wham! being my undisputed fave because it was the first song on the tape, so it meant that Christmas had arrived) and I loved it all.

But my absolute favourite thing about Christmas with my mum was her magical sweetie jar. A little glass jar that magically (and endlessly) filled with pick n’ mix. She never mentioned it, announced it or spoke about it. It was just endless and I could dip in as often as I wanted. When my mum died and I was asked what trinkets I might want to remember her by, I wanted to be the mummy with the magical sweetie jar.

Kev has been delightful enough to be the one filling the jar this year so that some of the Christmas magic remains for me too. We’ve been for breakfast to meet Santa already and our panto tickets are booked for New Year.

This weekend, Kev was walking through town with Squidge and realised that our town council was putting on a Christmas spectacular. And it was awesome. There were fairground rides outside the high street shops and huts selling goodies in the square next to the Christmas tree (My Kinder Beuno brownie was the absolute bomb!) There was a light walk and a Santa’s Grotto in the Children’s playground, hot chocolate for drinking and a Yorkshire Pudding wrap for eating, all while watching a free screening of Home Alone in the park in deckchairs laid out. (The deckchairs made me chuckle, cos it was freezing but we do live in a seaside town so have a bountiful supply I guess.) It was so festive and lovely and I couldn’t honestly remember there ever being anything like this to do in my hometown when I was growing up.

On Sunday, we went out for the day to take the girls to the Lego shop. And it turned out that Lego also has some Christmas magic.

I started making Gabby’s “Gabby’s Dollhouse” set with her in the morning before nursery, but she kept the bigger set, wanting to complete it with Squidge after school. I reminded my Lego-mad eldest that she needed to allow her sister to participate in her own set. But I needn’t have bothered.

They were straight at it. No squabbling, no arguing. Excited murmuring between them and celebrating as they sifted between the pieces and the set took shape. I was astounded and stood there watching them get on with the proudest grin on my face. What a team.

“It’s beautiful!” Gabby announced. “Look Mimmy, we did it. We’ve done so well.”

Why yes, my little ones, yes you have.

Christmas is here.