Our Best New Books

Our Best New Books

Father Christmas must know how much we love reading because we got looooaaaaaads of new books for Christmas! They’re all lovely, of course, but there are a few that stand out as being special; modern classics that we will treasure forever. So to give you some inspiration for the new books you and your little ones need in your life, here are our top five:

1.  Helen Stephens, How to Hide a Lion.

When a friendly lion is chased out of town by terrified locals, he finds an unlikely friend in Iris, a little girl who decides to hide the lion in her house. This beautiful book depicts the relationship between child and beast in a manner reminiscent of The Tiger Who Came to Tea (one of our all-time faves) and the vintage-style illustrations are so old-fashionedly gorgeous that I was surprised that this was published in 2012. If you love the innocent charm of Judith Kerr’s books then this is for you. There’s a serious message here, about not making negative judgements and getting to know people before you, you know, chase them out of town with a pitchfork, but the story is so much fun that your little one will want to hear it again and again (and again and again).

2.  Usborne Books, The Story of Coppelia.

Forget those horrible, tinny-sounding “musical” books that you have to hide from your children because the sound drives you crazy. The music in this book, whilst not quite MP3 quality, still manages to sound beautiful because the publishers have used real orchestra recordings. The book tells the story of Coppelia simply, with bright, bold illustrations that children will enjoy, but it’s the music that takes centre stage. Watching Amelia dance to the ballet music was heart-melting, even on a hungover Boxing Day. If there’s a place in your heart that loves ballet, beautiful music, or both, then you will adore this (and you might even play with it yourself when the kids are in bed).

3.  Julia Donaldson, Stick Man.

Whether it was the BBC screening of Stick Man on Christmas Eve, or whether it is just the fact that Father Christmas makes an appearance, I don’t know; but Amelia is obsessed with this book and asks for it nearly every night. Every time we go out for a walk, she’ll find a stick and yell, “Look! Stick Man!” The story of Stickman’s struggle to be reunited with his family is genuinely emotional. At the part where he is woven into a swan’s nest, Millie always frowns and says, “Poor Stick Man.” This is a good thing; she’s learning empathy. The repetition, “I’m Stick Man, I’m Stick Man, that’s me!” delights toddlers who will love to join in with it. And the association with Christmas makes this book extra special.

4.  Julia Donaldson, Hide and Seek Pig.

This book was supposed to be a present for someone else, but Amelia found my not-very-well-hidden present box and claimed this as her own. In a way I’m glad it happened, because this is one of the most child-engaging books we’ve ever had. Little readers get to open gates and lift up blankets to find out who is hiding behind them, and they’ll be genuinely thrilled when they “find” Hen at the end. The rhyming couplets are brilliant for building word awareness and memory, and the illustrations are gorgeous. This is just perfect.

5.  Julia Donaldson, Rosie’s Hat.

Little Rosie loses her hat one windy day by the sea. The hat has lots of adventures of its own until years later, by sheer coincidence, it is reunited with grown-up Rose.

Now let me just get one thing straight- I have no problem with pink, I have no issue with princesses, and I deeply love traditional fairy tales and would defend them to the death. That said, I love love love the fact that when Rosie grows up she is a fire-fighter (as well as a wife and mother, if you must know). I do believe that, somewhere between the pink tutus and the sparkly shoes, our daughters need strong role models and although this is only one book in a million books, every little helps.

I realise that three out of these five books are written by Julia Donaldson, and that’s not a deliberate thing. We parents are not the real judges of children’s books, our children are, and I have very much found that the Julia Donaldson books “last” with Amelia; that she keeps going back to them long after the novelty of a new book has worn off. I think, in the end, that that is the measure of a great children’s book…. And I’ll look forward to expanding our already-substantial collection next Christmas.

Review: Father Christmas Experience at The Chill Factore

Last Christmas, Amelia was only one, and although some of my NCT friends had braved Santa’s grotto, it had generally ended in tears. I decided she was just too young, and didn’t bother. This year, however, Millie is much more aware of Christmas and all its accompaniments; she’s become obsessed with Christmas trees, reindeer and presents (I’ve tried to balance this out with references to angels, stars and baby Jesus, not that she understands) so I thought it was time we finally met “Farmer Mitmus”, as Amelia refers to him.

I started by researching my options and asking friends for recommendations. I’d heard too many horror stories of Santas who smell of Benson and Hedges and hour-long queues in the rain, and I wasn’t taking any chances.

After copious googling, I finally decided on the Chill Factore. You pay £15 for yourself and your child- additional adults cost extra, but as I was planning on taking Millie by myself, this wasn’t a problem. For this price, your child gets to meet the big man, receives a small gift and gets thirty minutes to play in the snow (the “Mini Moose Land” area is specially for children aged four and under, so no danger of being run over by a 16 year-old on a snowboard). It was only after I’d booked and paid online, that I read the small print and realised that the photo is an additional £10 (and taking your own pictures in Santa’s Snowy Kingdom is strictly forbidden). Oh well.

I received a confirmation email straight away, as well as a reminder the day before, not that we could possibly forget; we were far too excited.

The email advised me to arrive early, because “there may be long queues at peak times”. Happily, when we arrived, there was hardly a queue at all, and everything seemed to be organised and moving efficiently. I noticed a huge sign hanging from the ceiling saying “Queue here for Father Christmas” so I went over and enquired, perhaps stupidly, if this was the correct place to queue for Father Christmas. I was asked if I had bought a ticket and I replied that no, I had booked online ( I had the email on my phone, and had also written down the booking number just in case my phone was non-functioning for any reason). Strangely, however, the lady didn’t ask to see my email or booking number, and I was waved straight through. Note to self: get it free next time.

 

We were placed in a short queue, in a quiet, separate area which was equipped with toys, books, mini chairs and other things aimed at small people, which meant that Millie could safely and happily play while I held our place in the queue. Our appointment with the big guy was at 11am and sure enough, at eleven on the dot, an elf popped out of a fairy-light tunnel and asked us to come through.

The elf introduced herself as Snowflake, which I doubt was her real name, but she was lovely nonetheless. She spoke to Millie and asked if she was excited and received, in reply, a slow nod.

At the end of the tunnel there was a 6ft tall plyboard castle draped with tinsel and fairy lights, and we were ushered in through what I can only describe as the front door. Inside there was a cosy scene; a red-carpeted room with a pretend fire in the pretend fireplace, a Christmas tree towering over a pile of identically-wrapped presents, and hundreds of fairy lights and other twinkly, sparkly paraphernalia. A second elf stood to attention, military-style, beside Father Christmas’ throne.

And of course, there was the big man himself. He was exactly as you’d always like to imagine him; festively hefty and satisfyingly old with a (real) snowy-white beard and half-moon spectacles perched halfway down his nose. Although Amelia was initially shy- and, I think, a little in awe- he chatted to her and she soon came round and started replying to him; she even, when he asked if she liked Frozen, gave him a short rendition of Let it Go, which I think was a little more than he expected.

We were probably only in there for about three minutes, but it was enough for a slightly overwhelmed two year-old. He asked Amelia to leave a carrot and a mince pie out on Christmas Eve, and she nodded gravely. So far, so heart-warming. Then, before we were shown out by Snowflake the elf, we were presented with a small gift bag, which we thanked him for, but didn’t open in front of him as it seemed presumptious to do so.

 

And with the formalities over with, it was time for our thirty minutes of playing in the snow. Woo-hoo!

This was the part where I wished that I had Jon with me. Pulling a toddler up a hill in a rubber ring whilst also carrying my over-stuffed tote bag is not the most fun thing I've ever done. Thankfully, after two slides down the hill, she’d had enough.

She pottered around in the snow for a while, where there were various things to play with; those ELC bouncy animals that you find at every Baby Sensory class, jumbo foam building blocks, a Little Tykes playhouse. However, it became obvious that we were not going to last for thirty minutes because, at the risk of stating the obvious, it was really cold. Although Amelia had gloves, I’d neglected to bring a pair for myself, thinking “I’m an adult, I’ll be okay,” and it was amazing how quickly I went from feeling fine to feeling like I had frostbite and was going to die. I asked Millie if she was ready to go, and to my relief she replied in the affirmative. So that was the end of our snowy experience.

We walked to the main exit, at which point Millie burst into tears because, I guess, it was all over so soon. So, feeling guilty, I U-turned into Frederick’s ice cream parlour, and let them tap my wallet for a cappuccino and a humongous milkshake because they “don’t do anything smaller”; it cost £4.50 and Millie drank about a tenth of it.

It was at this point that we looked inside the gift bag, and found a small, cheap teddy that had all the hallmarks of Poundland. I guess even Father Christmas has to think about his profit margins.