I shouldn't be allowed near the shops at this time of year. I go out intending to buy a and b and come back with c,d, e and f at least. Especially cute clothes for children. Doubly especially Christmassy clothes for babies.
But I've ordered the turkey. I don't want a repeat of the year we spent the early hours of Christmas eve trawling supermarkets - unsuccessfully - for one. The rest of the night was sleepless before the local butcher opened and reassured us that he had one spare.
Then there was the year George ate the turkey. But we won't talk about that.
So I guess we're getting there. Still not panicking, which is a sure sign I'm forgetting something vital, but until I remember what that is I won't worry.