Presents! (Sadly not for me)

I appear to have acquired responsiblity for several godchildren in addition to my somewhat absent place in the lives of the multitudinous offspring & step-children of my beloved friends & relatives back in London, and it has been gradually borne in on me that my role, now that I have buggered off to America, is to swoop down on them all five or six times a year, laden with presents from New York.

This is, of course, an ideal situation: I love buying presents, I get warm fuzzy feelings when I press gifts into their hot sticky paws, they love me unconditionally in return (who says money doesn't buy you love?), and I don't have to deal with the day-to-day horrors of toddler wrangling.

The only drawbacks are a)the cost and b)the breadth of my imagination. Fortunately most of the presents required for this trip are for little boys and I believe that today I found the perfect solution. In just one visit to the splendid shop of the New York Fire & Police Departments on Greenwich Avenue in the Village, I dropped $110.82 on seven T shirts of varying sizes from 3-12yrs old emblazoned with various offical NYPD/NYFD logos, and several sets of die-cast fire engines for the birthdays for which I will be in absentia. (I am partic fond of the NYFD toddler T shirts that say 'Stay Back 200 ft' on the reverse. Just my feelings when presented with a chocolate covered urchin.)

I just have to engage with the little girls' gifts now. I have my eye on some rather splendid fairy tale finger bobs from the most perfect toy shop ever: Dinosaur Hill in the East Village, a mere hop & a skip from my front door.