It was a mother kangaroo with a baby kangaroo in her pouch. I delved inside and found two tiny brown ears and a weeny pointy nose. He had torn off half the paper already, exposing two big brown ears and a long pointy nose. I left number 5 till last because it was big but soft and squashy, and I hoped it might be a cuddly animal (any kind, but not a tiger). A little wallet of gel pens with a stationery set and stickers. A pink shoebox containing a pair of trainers, blue with pink laces.ģ. They matched a pink heart-patterned T-shirt with a cute koala motif across the chest.Ģ. A pair of blue jeans with lots of little pockets fastened with pink heart-shaped buttons. So I lost my chance of savoring my five shiny silver presents. Or it could have been Ha-ha-ha, meaning Ya boo sucks to you. You need to get a bit of a move on, darling, or you’ll be late for school, said Mum. He’s just trying to help you unwrap them, Flossie, said Steve. 'Tiger, stop it! They’re my presents, not yours,' I said, trying to snatch them out of the way. But Tiger started ripping them himself, tearing all the paper and tangling the ribbon. I thought they looked so pretty I just wanted to hold them for a moment, smoothing the silver paper and fingering the bows, trying to guess what might be inside. They were wrapped up in shiny silver paper with big pink bows. He held it over his nose like a cuddle blanket, while Mum and Steve cooed at his cuteness. Tiger went exploring under my bed and came out all fluffy, clutching one of my long-forgotten socks. Mum and Steve perched at the end, drinking coffee. Tiger cried when the flames went out, so we had to light them all again for him to huff and puff at. He’s really called Tim, but Tiger suits him better. He’s too tiny to sing but he made a loud he-he-he noise, sitting up on his padded bottom and clapping his hands. My little half brother, Tiger, came crawling into my bedroom too. Mum and Steve woke me up singing ' Happy Birthday to you.' They’d stuck candles in a big fat croissant and put a little paper umbrella and a cocktail stick of cherries in my orange juice.

Jacqueline wilson candyfloss age