Misfiled

There is a new blog-entry but it has been misfiled below the Dancing-blog...sorry for the confusion.
Yours truly, Oscar

Dancing

As I told you in a previous blog, I simply love dancing. It's enough that my parents put on a CD, or that I press a button of one of my toys that make a sound, and I start dancing or turning around until I get all dizzie. I also told you that I might add a video of myself dancing to the blog and, well, guys...here it is! Enjoy

P.S. Don't hesitate to join my dancing if the beat of the music starts shaking your hips...

My mum -the cannibal!!!

I’d like to share with you a secret. A very dark secret. The other day I found out that my mum is a cannibal –a man-eater!! I didn’t actually see her eat anyone –thanks god for that, but she probably ate him at lunch when I was at the kindergarten. So how do I know? Well, she is not really trying to hide it, nor is she ashamed of it or anything. One day when I sat in her lap and she was reading a book to me she simply told me so herself. She was very illustrious and pointed at her stomach as she went on and on about some friend of mine that was in there. I got really shocked, and didn’t hear half of what she was saying. Afterwards I thought I might have misheard but she repeated it again later, your friend, she said, in there –finger on the tummy. I didn’t sleep particularly well that night and my dreams were a little disturbed. Next day at kindergarten there were 3 kids missing, Davide the rumba-dancing south American, Gaia with the emerald-green fairy-tale eyes and Sofie the fountain that never stops crying. I got really worried and thought my mum might have eaten all of them, but then I heard the teachers talk about that they’d all got some bad cold and were staying at home. What a relief! But it also means that I still don’t know whom my mum actually ate. The next day she tried to cheer me up telling me a story about a big bird that will fly from a far to come and see us next autumn. She knows I love birds, so this was a nice surprise to me. But then she started again talking about that friend that I don’t know who is and her stomach and I got all confused and lost the thread.

A few days later I got confirmed that what she’d told me was really true. It was Monday, and I should have been at kindergarten, but I had just got over a really bad flu, so my parents were forced to take me with them on their errands. They went to a big house somewhere on the other end of town. We had to wait a long time in a small room, and judging from what I saw there, my mum is not the only cannibal in Pavia. There were lots and lots of other women there that looked as if they’d also eaten a baby -or even two, for their stomachs were sooo swollen -and they seemed just as much at peace with their conciuosness as my mum. Finally a woman dressed in white (just like the butcher -come to think of it) called my mum’s name and then we followed her into a small room where my mum was told to lie down on a strange bed on wheels. Then they started to scan my mum’s tummy with a probe and I could see on a small screen that this friend that she had been going on about for some days, was really there. The lady in white pointed out hands and legs and head and all on the screen, so I don’t think my mum had gone very far with the digestion. Then the lady congratulated my parents (for eating a baby?) and patted me on my head and said it was nice for me to have a little friend in there. I don’t think that was very responsible of her –she should have called the police instead to tell them what my mum had been up to! I wanted to ask her if she knew who this friend of mine was, but I didn’t know how to phrase the question and before I knew of it we were back home. Some time has passed now, and I continue to watch my mum closely. I think that her stomach has swollen a bit, so maybe she has eaten just another baby, although she has said nothing about it. I just can’t help thinking that it would be better if she just gave into her chocolate-cravings instead of continuing this dreadful dreadful thing!

Confession

One of the things that my parents are trying to teach me is the difference between right and wrong, between things that can be done and can't, between good and bad. I'm a quick learner, but even if I understand things, and remember them well, it doesn't necessarily mean that I put them in practice! For example, there is a series of things that I'm not allowed to do at home: I'm not allowed to touch the radiator because it's hot, I'm not allowed to play with the toilet-brush because it's dirty and I'm not allowed to kiss the TV because it will ruin it. I have no difficulty in understanding this, and remembering this, so when I find myself e.g. in front of the radiator I know I'm not allowed to touch it, and I know why (for the other day I actually touched it while it was warm like the sun, and I did get a bit burnt!!) so I start to say nei nei nei, waving the index finger in the air. But because I like to provoke my parents, and to challange myself I also get ready to touch it. Then my parents have to jump up from whatever they were doing and come and teach me a lesson about why I cann0t touch the radiator. Sometimes I can even foresee that certain things are forbidden, so I start to say nei nei nei before my parents can even open their mouth!
One of the things that shouldn't be done, according to civilized people's division between right and wrong, is to play tricks on people, I understand this and remember this, but I wouldn't be the son of my mum if I didn't sometimes get tempted to play, if not just tiny tiny tricks on some of the good people I know. But I wouldn't be her son either if it didn't make me feel a little bit guilty when the trick is not eventually revealed. So here's my confession.
Dear friends, in one of the previous blogs, I asked you to guess which of two photos presented was of me and which one of afi-Lalli. Many people took part in the competition (some even offline), maybe it was the promise of homemade biscuits that tempted the people, or the spirit of Christmas that made them so playful, whichever the reason, they took part in the competition in good faith. Now, to this good people, I must say sorry. Sorry, sorry sorry sorry sorry (how many times before you forgive me?). The truth is that although one of the photos looked extremely similar to my dear grandad, both photos were my photos, taken the same day, maybe 3 minutes apart one from the other. Now the hoax has been revelead...well, I just hope you'll accept my apologies -and find a way to smile at this confession. And since it's all in my genes, be reassured that I will strike again....!

Flat

As most of you know, me and my parents have spent most saturdays since September going around looking for a new place to live. It has basically gone like this: my parents wake me up early saturday morning (if I didn't manage to beat them to it) and before I know of it I'm in the car, going towards Bergamo. If we're lucky, the trip takes just over an hour, but if there is some jam on the road, accident or men at work, we get a bit delayed and my parents start swearing a lot. Once we arrive to Bergamo we go from one flat to another, one agency to another, put on the jacket, take off the jacket, sit in the car, out of the car...you get the picture...! At lunchtime we normally go to a bar in Almenno San Bartolomeo, where the waitresses know us by now -and are willing to warm my lunch in the microwave! After lunch I get to sleep a bit in the car before we're off to see yet another flat with another agency, put on the jacket, take off the jacket, sit in the car, out of the car...the same circus over and over again. When we get really really exhausted we start driving towards Pavia. I don't remember most of the flats we've seen. But I do remember the comments and disccusion my parents had about them in the car on the way home. Some were too small, some too expensive, some had the bedrooms too close to the common entrance of the house, some were too old, some were too badly organized, some were unpractical, some were last floor no elevator and some were basically not our taste. It was like the quest for the holy grail, we thought we'd never arrive to a conclusion. But then, suddenly BINGO. We found the flat. Maybe not the flat of our dreams, but it had all the basic elements, was relatively new, perfectly localized in regards to all services and trains/buses and and most of all, we liked it :)
The flat is in Ponte San Pietro, which is a small town (<10.000 inhabitants) 7 km west of Bergamo in a zone called "the Bergamo Island", and which you can see highlighted in white on the first picture. PsP is close to the upper right corner of the white triangle on the map.
Our house is in the centre of Ponte San Pietro -but don't think that means that the street below will be crammed with cars, buzzling with people and outdoor cafe's and noise and the smell of garlic, dogshit and pizza -remember, 10.000 inhabitants is small on italian scale, so, yes, there are some shops there, but they do leave something to be desired and the neighbourhood is rather calm and quiet! The town is a bit cosy though, and our house is close to the river Brembo which passes through the town, and which at christmas-time hosts one of the most beautiful presepe of northern Italy. Our house is marked with a yellow label on the second picture, and the center of town is all around it. There is a kindergarten (for >3years) across the street, the trains that bring you to Bergamo in 5 minutes stop close by (but far enought so that we won't wake up to the trains at 5 o'clock in the morning), and we will be comfortably close to my dad's work.

The flat is in a relatively new house of about 20-30 flats, and we will be on 3rd (and last) floor (you can see it on the last picture, it is marked with a yellow label). It's a 3 rooms flat with a balcony and there is an elevator that brings us all the way down to floor -1 and -2 where the carpark is. We will move in, around the end of April, and I just can't wait. Think, I'll get a room all to myself to fill with toys and books and whatever I like -that will be amazing. We can expand ourselves a bit, and floors and corners of the flat wont be filled with books, brochures and other things that we now have no place to put. And best of all, when my dad wants to go home early from work, he can come and play with me immediately or we can go out to the close by playground, and he doesn't have to sit in his car, stuck in a traffic-jam on the ring road around Milano, swearing out loud for the time lost playing with his wonderful son.
We are planning to buy a sofa-bed for the living room, and I hope it means you are coming to visit us soon :)

Update

I see that time continues to pass faster than I imagine, so I guess it's time that I update you a bit about my life.
First of all, I've had a haircut. This time my mum decided it was time to leave the business to a professional (she got worn out the last time she tried to cut my hair, hehe), so she brought me to Gianni, the guy that normally cuts my dad's hair. When he saw me he said that I was to young to have my hair cut there, but my mum managed to convince him to give it a try and so I got to sit in my mum's lap in a funny chair while Gianni got the scissors. Then I started to see my hair fall to the floor like leaves in autumn and my look started to change. Gianni made several attempts to cut off my ears, but I was quicker than him and turned the head before he managed to close the scissors on my earlobes! When there was almost no hair left Gianni finally gave up and I got to go home. This is how I look now. My mum says that there is some resemblance to Sinead O'connor (as she looked like when my mum used to listen to her), but I think that I just look like a balder version of myself!
To complete my new look I broke a tiny piece of one of my front tooth. It was not easy, I had to fall face down on the kitchen tiles, and the result was that a 2mm of enamel left one of my tooth permanently, my lip bled (and became double for a while) and my mum had to comfort me in her arms until I overcame the shock. But I was successful, and think I look rather cool with my new smile :)
The talking business is going better and better. My mum recently made a list of words that I can say (or that I try to say and she manages to decipher), and this list is growing day by day and the way I say the words is advancing at the same time. Today for example I upgraded the moon (tungl in icelandic) from a ttt to tuu, yesterday buxur (trousers) advanced from ux to bu and I also made the first attempt to say kex (biscuit). As you may have understood, most of my new words are in icelandic. The only exceptions are ciao and mela (apple), which I pronounce with a beautiful mmm (the same way I say flower, blòm, in icelandic) but I sometimes say eu, for epli! The only words I pronounce in full length are mamma, pabba and the very useful nei nei nei, which I underline by shaking the index finger in the air!
The last update I wanted to give you now is about my latest passion. Dancing! As soon as I hear the first beats of a song I start moving about, shaking my hips, clapping my hands and turning around and around until I get all dizzie and fall down. If my mum can get around to it she will show you some videoclip of one of my dancing-performaces.
well folks, it's time to go, but before I say goodbye, I must share some good news with you: WE'VE BOUGHT A FLAT! I'll tell you more about it in my next blog, but until then...live, love and laugh

History

As you've noticed, I passed the 13 month's line a couple of days ago. But what you didn't know was that there was a big change in my life that day. Something that's been an important (even if it's importance has diminished little by little with the passing of time) since the day I was born is no longer there, something is missing from the daily routine and it will take me some time to adjust to the changes. I'm talking about the milk tanks! Suddenly I'm no longer offered the milk tanks when I wake up in the morning -my mum tries to offer me something she calls milk in a cup as a substitute, but I'm not entirely convinced. But I don't ask for the milk tanks. Not because I wouldn't want them, but because I can see that it is not less difficult for my mum than it is for me to stop breastfeeding, so I try to make it as easy for her as possible! But if you think that end of breastfeeding means end of intimacy, then you're wrong! It has just changed. Now for example we can pass hours every day sitting together -me in my mum's lap, on a huge pillow on the floor, and I bring one book after another to read. This is my greatest past-time at the moment -well, after throwing objects that bounce and make a noise, on the floor! I've become quite good at pointing at objects that my mum names in the books. Can you see an apple, she says, and I point at an apple, -and then I say eup, can you see the lion, and I point at the lion, -and say hllll, the sun ssss, the moon ttt (tungl in icelandic).....and when we've finished a book -we just start all over again! So life can be wonderful -even without the precious milk tanks!

Me as...

There is a great site on internet, you can find it here, where you can change you face in many different ways. So here you can see the prognosis from this website of how I'll look like a young adult, what I would have looked like if I was afro-caribean or asian, and how Botticelli would have painted me...if I'd had the luck to be contemporary with him..!
I guess my current looks are the cutest!

13 months

Did I really not blog since january 11th!!! Time IS flying, and there are so many things happening in my life, that I would need the rest of the day to tell you all about it. I'll tell you some highlights. Well, first of all, this walking business is going really well. By now I can bend down and pick up things, stand up without holding anything, and best of all, at the playground, I'm free to go wherever I want. Another great thing is that when we walk to the car I get to explore all the things that until now I've only seen from above and now -finally- I get the chance to study close up. Such as the moss that grows on our next doors neighbour's fence, the flowers at number 21, the breadcrumbs that mMarco the dwarf feeds the birds and so on. It can take the whole afternoon just to arrive to the car! I'm also getting quite skilled in eating alone. First I just used the gudsgaflana (god's forks, as they say in iceland), as you can see on this picture, and I still do when I'm not up to more complicated stuff, but I've also learnt to use a fork and a spoon (as you can see on the second photo). It took some effort (and several changes of sweaters, and washing of the floor) for me to learn to direct these devices towards my mouth. It is less easy than it looks -especially when you want to add an artistic touch to it, as I do! But then I got the hang of it, and now I'm quickly learning to pick up the food with the fork or the spoon, without distributing the food all over the table, -or the floor, or the nearby furniture, -or the toys, -or my clothes...! So I'm getting quite independent as you can see. But sometimes, being so independent can be tiring. Like last sunday when my mum took me for a 2 hour walk in the Vernavola park, with a visit to the pond where the crazy-geese live, and to the playground, and then we went home to eat pork chop with mashed potatoes and I got so tired that I fell asleep while eating, as you can see on the last series of photos. Anyway, my mum thought it was quite cute, and my coma was so profound that I didn't wake up at all when she transferred me to my bed -where I continued to sleep for over 2 hours. but from the pictures in this blog you can grasp that "Oscar eating" is one of the favourite subject for my parents photographing. Now I wouldn't mind getting to snap a photo or two of THEM when they are feeding me, for they can be quite hilarious. I don't think they realize, but every time they bring the spoon towards my mouth (or brought, for now I'm mainly doing things on my own) they open their mouth as if they were going to feed themselves, and then close it when I close mine with the food in my mouth. They have no idea how stupid that looks!
Another subject I would like to bring up, is how our flat is getting smaller all the time. I noticed it a lot when we came back from christmas in iceland. Then suddenly the kitchen table had become smaller than me, shelves I couldn't reach before were not only reachable but easily reachable, buttons and books that seemed to be a part of the sky before were suddenly within reach (riaising a series of new nei nei nei, situations), and I'm just about to be able to climb the sofa without needing a push from my parents. I don't know how the flat with everything in it managed to shrink so much, but I do think it's about time we find something bigger for us -before I start to be able to touch the ceiling here!
I have a lot of other things to tell you, but I have to stop here. Before going though, I would like to send birthday greetings to my italo-francese friend Tommi who is one years old in 2 days and I'll send belated birthdaywishes to Maria, my cousin in Iceland, who is still angry at me for not sending official birthdaygreetings to her on my blog, on her birthday! Better late than not at all!

P.s.
A short correction, just to show how fast things happen in my life. This afternoon (a few hours after writing this blog) I successfully climbed our sofa -alone! My mum was busy preparing dinner and couldn't believe her eyes when she saw me putting the icelandic, and italian flag on this peak to celebrate my conquist. I guess my middle name should be Edmond!

New game

Life is such a treat and I'm constantly inventing new games to have fun. My latest invention is a game that my father used to master in when he was a child. In the regional Tuscany championship of 1969 his winning move was pointing at a white wall screaming "I want that". There was no way for the other babies to overdo that wish and his glorious victory has eluminated his life ever since.
Now I'm trying to follow in his footstep, and what fun there is to have. The game, as I play it, goes like this. I point at any spot in the flat, more or less randomly, and then I grunt or say something that my mum understands as I want that. Then my mum tries to decipher what it is I want, and bring me the thing I point at. If, for example, I point at the window-sill in the living room, she might bring me the bottle of the Fluor-drops, but the rule of the game is, never to let her guess right the first time what I want, so even if I really would like to play with the fluor-bottle (sic!) then I just continue pointing at the window sill and grunting until she brings me somthing else. Usually I stop at the third thing she brings me, even if it means I have to play with an empty envelope or a teaspoon, but sometimes, for fun, I start crying out of an apparent disappointment for having a parent that doesn't understand me. Then my mum gets really frustrated, and I get a lot of bonus-points. I will probably never reach the level of my father, but I am doing my best!

Thanks to the anonymous sender

As you know, christmas and birthday come in one for me, so in a short time I recieve many gifts that I'm very thankful for. My stock of books and toys has doubled in just a few days. But there is one gift that didn't have any information about the sender, except that it was sent from a shop in England (that I doubt that would have thought of sending me a toy-train just like that out in the blue...), so I don't know who is the kind giver and since I've already written a thank-you letter to one person that didn't send it to me, then I'll just have to send out hearty thanks to the mysterious sender from my blog. I have some suspects...I'll say no names, but please come forward to that I can thank you in person.

Magical carpet

There is a magical carpet in my grandparent's house in Iceland- well, my grandfather's house now. It's not a flying carpet, although that would be a lot of fun, but it is really magical! Last summer I started crawling on this carpet. I had been up on my knees for more than two months, but not realized which potentials that positions could have -until I arrived to Akureyri. I hadn´t been there for many days when I started crawling. Now I´m back to Akureyri, and I´ve been up on my feet for months (since the beginning of august to be precise), and I had started to do a few steps without holding anything, but I lacked the confidence to throw myself into the walking business. A few days after I came to Akureyri, on the magical carpet, I decided that it was time to start walking. The first morning I was very careful, but already in the afternoon I could do several meters, turn around, and clap my hands in ecstasy for the acquired skills! Now, a few days later I'm literally running around as if I'd never done anything else. My Icelandic cousins say that if I have problems getting the talking business going, then I'll just have to come to the magical carpet to fix things...I'll keep that in mind :)

I'll use this opportunity also to wish you all a great new year. In the Christmas-greetings that I wrote just a couple of hours before my grandmother died I wished that you had a million reasons to smile next year. Despite the sad events of the past weeks -or better to say, because of the sad events, I want to emphasis this wish:
may you have a million reasons to smile in 2008.
Big hugs to all of you, Oscar et al

ONE YEAR

I'm in Iceland and I haven't been much in the blog-mood lately...so I kind of forgot to write a birthday blog yesterday! But...yes you're right...I'm ONE YEAR OLD!
We celebrated in a small scale yesterday, with pancakes, blueberry-cheesecake, gifts, hugs and kisses, and the birthday-song in several languages!
I have a lot of other things to update you on...but I'll tell you later...good to keep you a bit curious...hehe! Check back soon...
Birthdayhugs from Oscar

Amma Finna

Yesterday my Elsku Amma Finna, my mum's mum, passed away. It was sudden and unexpected by everyone, and we don't know how to cope with the news. I don't really know what dying means, but it must be something awfully sad, for my mum has been in tears since then. My grandmother was good and kind as a saint, strong as an ox, she made the most delicious food that we can think of, and when she laughed, it was so contagious that even people that didn't know why she was laughing couldn't help but laughing as well -it could last minutes, the whole body would shake, tears would be running down the cheeks and in the end the stomach would be hurting. And that's how we would like to remember her. Amma, we miss you.

Christmas spirit

I saw father Christmas (Babbo Natale) for the first time today at the kindergarten. He was really nice and gave me some sweets. My mum says I looked at him completely enchanted, which is mild to say true. I had to see him also through the window after he left, and I didn't want to leave the window for a while, as I hoped that he would reappear! My mum tells me that this was the italian father christmas, and that next year she would like to introduce me to the 13 jolasveinn in Iceland.
Anyway, seeing this good old fellow brought me just the right spirit to send you my christmas-greetings. I don't mind if I'm a week in advance, for you never know when the net is going to work, and then next weekend we are going down to Arezzo to celebrate christmas with my grandparents (and there internet is hyper-slow, so don't you expect me to blog very much from there -that's also why the winners of the competition will only be notified telepathically).
So merry christmas to all of you, and thanks for keeping me company this year, I hope you have a million reasons to smile next year -and be sure, that if I'll have some, then my parents will be there capturing it digitally. I hope to see you all very very soon.
Big hugs, Oscar

walking-talking business

People keep asking my parents, is he walking yet, and is he talking? Well, I'm in no hurry to learn these things, but to tell the truth, there has been some progress lately. With the walking business, I can let go of e.g. the sofa and walk 1-2 steps towards my parents, but the sensation is a bit scary and it's good to get a hug and an applause when it's done. My parents bought me a toddle truck from IKEA (Thanks Tommi for the advice) to encourage me to walk, and the first day I couldn't get enough of it and walked back and forth our small flat, with one hand on the truck and a big smile on my face. But then I fell (the blame goes to my parents that didn't tighten the wheels enough) and my lip started bleeding. Then I steared away from the truck for a week. Didn't want all that blood again. But I'm starting to get confident with it again, and walk when I feel like it. I'll keep you updated!
About the talking business, well, there is a kind of race betwen me and my parents -I learn to pronounce words and they try to guess what I'm saying. If they don't understand, I try to improve the pronounciation, for it seems that they don't improve very much at guessing. One of my favourite words these days is Dla (sometimes Dadla), which is my way of saying Bjalla, and this is easy for my parents to guess, Und is hundur (dog) and my mum understood this at the first go and so on, one word at a time. Slowly we are getting to the point. And I plan to be able to say Merry Christmas and a happy new year...next year :)

Old myth

Children need TRAN and books, says this poster. Tran is lysi in iceland, cod-liver oil for the english speaking, and they've just found out that it's not such a miracle oil after all (here you can read all about it...if you read norvergian that is). My mum was just about to order a dozen bottle of Lysi from iceland to make more of a viking of me (to fight all the diseases I bring home from the kindergarten) when she read that those who drank Tran when they were young are more likely to get osteoporosis. They put the blame on excess A-vitamin, that has now been decreased from the tran (since 2001), but still -those (like my grandma in iceland e.g.) who were forced to drink lysi directly from the bottle when they were young have a reason to feel that they've been bluffed!

Mr. Dettifoss

Yesterday was some sort of a record-day for me. I had to change the bib 10 times, and 3 times my mum changed it so late that I had to change the sweater and underwear as well. She calls me Mr. Dettifoss, and I think she believes to be ironical! but this really starts to be a problem! Yesterday after my nap we went hunting for the perfect bib, a heavy duty one that can absorb liters of saliva and still keeping that dry feeling. We didn't find anything suitable, so my mum starts to think that I'm the first baby in history to be drooling that much (or the bibs were sold out because of an epidemy of excessive drooling). My mum considered buying lady pads instead of gags, well, in the advertisement they claim that they have little bulk with great absorbency. They've got special LeakGuard that helps pull fluid deep into the middle of the pad and away from the edges to give you protection where you need it most (!!), also, with the latest tecnology where they are made with cotton-like Dri-Weave and are softer than ever for a more comfortable feeling. Why haven't they thought of making bibs with the pad's tecnology? Well, in the end we didn't buy them, for even if they say in the advertisement that you can discretely carry them anywhere you go, then maybe that is more true for the traditional use of the pads, than if you stick them to the chest of your adorable little boy! In the end we came home with a set of 3 low-duty (and rather ugly) bibs and a pack of swedish cotton sponge for kitchen use that my mum is considering sewing into the new bibs for extra absorbency. In case my mum doesn't find a job once she can get around looking for one, then maybe she will start a bib-production business, where she makes stylish heavy duty bibs for me and my friends! Or maybe I will have done with teething by then, and she will have found some new interesting problems to solve.

BINGO !!!

Once you've completed your bingo-card you're supposed to scream BINGO, BINGO, and wave your arms in the air, right? Well, I would if I had any strength in my muscles, but right now I can hardly keep my eyes open, let alone my arms up, and screaming seems to crave too much energy for my poor reserves. In these compromised conditions I have just completed my bingo card of health. This morning I went to the kindergarten as a happy healthy young boy, but came back home, less than two hours later, white as the glaciers in iceland, weak as a sock without a feet in it, and so far the vomit-counter has arrived to 3. Lets just hope that I've won a weekend in a health spa or a boost of immunoglobins or something that will end this chain of diseases that all seem to be coming my way!

My mum was planning to prepare the christmas cards today, but with me in her arms it might proof slightly difficult. Maybe I should try and give her a hand with the art-work!!

Christmas competition

I've heard that Christmas is coming (I guess I'll soon find out what THAT means), so I thought of presenting you with a nice little Christmas competition.

On the left you can see pictures of two young boys. Which one of them is me, and which one of them is my grandad in Iceland? Please write your answer in the comment system. There will be two winners, one among relative and one among non-relatives. The winner will be notified by telepathy on Christmas Eve.

Rules: The competition runs between 1st and 24th December inclusive. You may enter one answer per day. The competition is open to earth-residents only (sorry aliens)! A homemade christmas cookie will be sent out to the winners, but please note that if it breaks in the post, then you'll have won a Christmas-cookie Jigsaw puzzle ;o)

As not all of you know my grandad in Iceland, I'll add here a picture of the two of us from this summer