My Son’s Remarkable Memory and the Unforgettable School Nativity: How Three British Surgeons, a Cucu…

My son has always had an incredible memory. Back at nursery, he could recite every single line of all the holiday plays by heart. Up until the very last moment, nobody actually knew which part hed end up playing, because if any child fell ill, hed just step right inhe knew every role backwards.

For the Christmas party, my five-year-old wound up with the part of a cucumber. I only found out the day before, so I dashed out and bought a green t-shirt and some coloured card. All through the night, with a mixture of worry and inspiration, I stitched a pair of green shorts to match and glued together a light green card hat, finishing it off with a wonderful little wire stalk wrapped in green fabric.

It was my husband who ended up taking our son to the party. This didnt fill me with much confidence, so that morning, I gave him a full briefing on how to dress the child and fasten the hat properly.

During my shift at hospital, I got a call from the nursery teacher. Her voice was shaking. Their lead actor had come down with an illness and tomorrow, my son would be the Gingerbread Man. My nerves snapped: “Do you think a Gingerbread Man can wear a cucumber costume?” A charged silence answered me.

Straight away, I rang my husband at work to fill him in on the crisis. His voice brimmed with enthusiasman early warning sign, really. Not to worry, he told me. Hed fetch two of his matesboth surgeons. Three surgeons make a dream team, he said. Theyre clever blokes. Theyd come round to our house and sort it all. (How I ignored my instincts, Ill never know.)

At nine that evening, after a manic day on the wards, I phoned home. My son answered. He sounded delightedtheyd bought a white t-shirt, Dad was gluing yellow card, Uncle Bob was cooking dinner, and Uncle Edward was howling with laughter.

An hour later, my son rang off for bed. Uncle Edward had cut out a yellow cardboard circle and was drawing big eyes on it, Uncle Bob was opening a jar of pickles, and Dad was hiccupping with laughter in the kitchen.

At midnight, I called again. My husband reported that Uncle Bob and Uncle Edward were utterly exhausted and asleep. But there were some complications. The Gingerbread Mans giant yellow face had been very clumsily stuck to the white t-shirt with industrial superglue by Uncle Bob. When Uncle Edward tried to peel this masterpiece off, the shirt tore. So, theyd sewn the whole thing onto the green cucumber t-shirt with surgical silk.

Somehow, they claimed it looked wonderful. And theyd given the Gingerbread Man thirty teeth, so he was beaming from ear to earalthough theyd run out of white card for the last two.

(Never mind, I sighed, no one will notice two missing teeth among thirty.)

So now, apparently, I could keep calm and carry on workingmy son would have the very best costume. And whos that snoring in the background? Why, its Uncle Edward, whod spent hours cutting out those teeth, fallen fast asleep in the armchair.

Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night in a state of vague panic. The next morning, as soon as my shift finished, I very nearly lost it in front of the head nurse so theyd let me leave earlyeven if only for a momentto see my sons performance.

I was running late. From the assembly hall came the sound of riotous laughtermingled with howls and even a few sobs. I peeked round the door.

By the Christmas tree stood the Gingerbread Manwell, at least he tried to jump. An enormous, round, yellow cardboard face, stretching from my sons chin to his knees, was fixed haphazardly to his chest. The eyes were set wide apart, gazing off in different directions. Three long, horizontal lines of surgical silk above the eyes looked for all the world like the deep furrows of a wise, battle-worn Gingerbread Man.

The real punchline was the gaping mouth, filled with thirty card teethexcept, of course, for the two missing upper front teeth.

Honestly, this Gingerbread Man looked old, down on his luck, newly out of the nick, and, by all appearances, suffering from chronic drink. For good measure, the whole surgical ensemble was topped off with the cheery light green card cucumber hat, complete with a wriggly wire stalk wrapped in green cloth.

And just then, my son began his poem, starting with: Where else can you find someone quite like me?… (There was more about fairy tales and Christmastime, but by now everyone was laughing or weeping too hard to listen.) The teacher sank to her knees with a groan, and the whole hall was in tears.