Meet my first ever Gingerbread Man:

He’s wonky and he has one leg that’s more of a spodge than a limb, but he’s full of joy and happiness. And he tasted delicious.

Oh, and he’s not actually made of ginger, because I realised too late that we’d run out. I suppose he’d better be called a Mixed Spice and Cinnamon Man, but that doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.

It’s been a strange old day.

I woke up feeling exhausted (not unusual, considering my alarm for work goes off at 3.30am) and drained. I drove into work at the pace of a snail, as I’ve lost a bit of confidence on the roads since a family tragedy last week.

But on that drive I made a decision. I was going to let myself be sad but not wallow in the worry. I was going to think of others but not forget myself and my own little family. And I was going to embrace every second of joy and life like it was my last.

You know what? I actually enjoyed the trip round the supermarket this afternoon, even when my two year old started to kick off. We looked at “choc choc” and talked about the food we’d eat on Christmas Day. We got excited about the impending holidays and soaked up the atmosphere and glitter. I usually hate the supermarket.

It’s funny how much brighter life is when you decide to try and enjoy it. I have raw, first-hand experience of how quickly our time can be taken. I don’t want mine to end with any regrets. It’s about the little, mundane moments of joy that punctuate bigger scenes in time.

Like making happy, wonky Gingerbread Men.