Thank god for men being disorganised!

The year was 1983
I was 10, sitting at home after school watching Newsround when on came a story about the latest craze from America. Cabbage Patch Kids were born in a cabbage patch, each one was different and each one had it's own name and birth certificate.
I knew then and there that my Christmas would be incomplete without one and that was the point at which my mum and dad's Christmas shopping took on a whole new world of horror!
I'd never asked for anything special for Christmas before, having to be told at the age of 4 by the doctor that there was no Santa I didn't want my parents to spend a lot of money they didn't have.
(I was an odd child and developed an all encompassing phobia about Santa which resulted in severe nervous sickness, only stopped when I was reassured he wasn't real - what a wee weirdo eh?!)
So, my mum and dad made it their mission to get me a Cabbage Patch Kid.
They searched...
and searched...
and searched...
But no luck, it seemed every other wee girl in Edinburgh had seen this story and wanted one too.
Finally on Christmas eve my mum sat me down and explained to me that she was really sorry but they had desperately tried to get me a doll & hadn't managed to so I wasn't to be too upset on Christmas day when there wasn't one there.

Being 10 I was heartbroken and ran to my bedroom in a huff shouting that they had ruined Christmas. (odd and grumpy - what a lovely child I must have been!)
But - what I didn't know was that my dad had gone out last minute shopping to Boots to get my mum a bottle of Anais Anais (1983 remember!) and had spotted a poor wee leftover Cabbage Patch Kid, in a slightly bashed box. Her wee green eyes peeping out from under red wooly curls and her wee chubby arms stretched out ready to give a big hug. So he grabbed it - haggled for a discount, and brought her home for me.

When I unwrapped her on Christmas morning I was shaking with happiness. Of course first thing I did when I opened the box was to check her bum for Xavier Roberts' signature, second thing I did was check her name on the adoption papers. I wasn't too pleased that she was called Christiane Naoma but I forgave her for having such a silly name when she had such a cool and trendy grey and lemon coloured tracksuit!
I loved her so very much and all my friends came round to see her, I actually slapped one girl for saying Christiane Naoma was ugly and ginger - I would have given my life for that wee doll.

It's funny how important things are to you when you're 10. And how those things remain important for the rest of your life. I still have Christiane Naoma now. She's a lot more loved and has lost one of her trainers, her hair ribbons and her adoption papers, but she'll always be one of the best Christmas presents I ever got.

Just think - if men weren't such last minute Christmas shoppers, Christiane Naoma and I would never have met!

...oh and I don't think my mum ever did tell my dad she didn't like Anais Anais!