I love entering all the Tots100 blogger comps but I must admit, before today’s saga, I was stuck for inspiration on this one. They’ve got together with Tesco and are giving away an amazing prize package worth over £500 to celebrate the launch of Tescos new Hudl tablet. One lucky winner is set to bag all this!

All we had to do is share where we hide our Christmas pressies from our little people. Simple right? Having read through all the entries so far, I’ve been giggling at the lengths other mums go to to hide their Christmas loot. I’ve read about so many inventive hiding places ranging from behind the drawers of divan beds, to unused en suites, to caravans in the back garden. Yet, as Dexter is only 19 months-old and would struggle to pick me, let alone Father Christmas, out in an ID parade, I thought he was a little too young to warrant special hiding places this year. So instead I’ve spent the past few days racking my brains to come up with something lighthearted and witty for my entry instead.

It was wasted effort.

You see, today my gorgeous angelic 19 month old handed me a healthy dose of inspiration. He tore apart all his cousin’s presents that were sat in the lounge waiting to be wrapped.

When I was in kitchen unloading the washing machine, he obviously waddled over for closer inspection, decided the boxes were too irresistible not to open, and set to work chewing and pulling apart the contents. I’m literally now sat next to the debris totting up the damage and working out which ones will need to be replaced, and which can be salvaged with sellotape. Oh the joy.

So we now have a remote-controlled car with a bent antenna and the battery cover ripped off, a make-your-own handbag set minus the beads (some of which are now no doubt sat in my sons belly waiting for his next bowel movement), a rag-doll that has had her hair dipped in the remnants of a Petit Filous I hadn’t got around to binning from elevenses, and a bumper set of Mr Men books with the front covers torn off, and more besides. Total value, £75. Time taken to wreak such mass destruction, 4 minutes.

Just some of Dexter’s handiwork…

It wouldn’t matter if these were presents for adults - I’d probably just wrap them up in their current state and they’d find it hilarious. But these are presents for his cousins (aged 2-6) who just won’t understand their gifts have been pre-loved and salivated on by Dexter. What’s more, as it’s a struggle to get the family together in one place in the thick of Christmas, we’re exchanging gifts on Saturday! This leaves me with no time at all to retrace my steps and re-buy things online. It’ll have to a dash down Tesco and gift bags cobbled together from bits and bobs in the toy aisle.

Poor Dexter. It really is my own fault for not placing them out of his reach. Nevertheless my clueless 19 month-old got an ear-bashing from me. Given he’s currently riddled with tonsillitis and has been really ill these past few days, I feel hopelessly guilty. As I wrestled his new bounty from his grip he must have thought he was being unduly punished. Given I had to follow-up this telling-off with another 5ml dose of foul-tasting penicillin, he’s probably feeling hugely unloved and confused.

I’m no longer angry. I’m sat in a corner in the lounge with my trusty laptop checking out the toys section of Tesco Direct. With the year we’ve had, this barely registers on the disaster-scale. I must admit though, I’m now desperate to see the rear-end of 2013. Bring on April when we get to meet the new baby, and we officially become a family of four. Then, and only then, will I get a true taste of what stress feels like. You can read all about my steady decline into breakdown territory then. For now, I’m going to place all my trust in Tesco, rouse my sleepy little guy from his lunchtime nap and show him that mummy’s not a rottweiler.

It’s impossible to stay mad at this little guy for long!

So a word of advice to my fellow mummy’s out there, your child is never too young to ignore colourful boxes and parcels. These present-seeking machines are just lulling you into a false sense of security. They will strike when your back is turned, and they will claim every present as their own. If this means personalising the presents with bite compressions, graffiti, or ripping into cellophane packets and hiding the contents in the sofa, they will achieve it with record-breaking finesse. Trust me, it’s an expensive lesson to learn.

This post is an entry into the Hudl Christmas cheer competition - arguably minus the cheer!