This could be the Christmas that finally launches the Bunker family band.
Like many girls, Molly has a total fascination with anything that involves music, costumes and performing.
She’s at her happiest when she’s dressed up in a Flamenco dress, with garish plastic earrings and clip-clopping in heels around the kitchen.
Amongst the ever-evolving Christmas list, a microphone has made a cameo appearance.
Not any form of microphone, but one with a giant amplifier, so that she can speak to ‘the people’!
Not quite sure where she gets the resounding confidence from, or what she wants to tell the people – maybe something rousing and Churchillian?
Who am I to hinder the performer within?
I’ve made a living out of talking and writing nonsense, so I would be contradicting my own mantra by stopping her.
Although in fairness, I very rarely broadcast in my own house, shouting incoherent drivel at the top of my voice…rarely.
So, we’ve got our lead vocalist.
Then there’s Jack. He’s a little dynamo with a love of music and the impressive ability to keep rhythm.
He regularly keeps time with his right foot while bobbing his head.
It’s not something you’d generally set out to teach a toddler. Bearing in mind he’s not in control of his bodily functions yet and can’t speak a word, I think he’s showing a suggestion of natural talent.
Showing potential to be our drummer, the question begs am I brave/stupid enough to buy him a toddler’s drum kit?
The whack whack whack of a stick on a little snare would test the patience of St John Bonham had he still been alive.
My heart tells me to go for it – who knows, he may go on to become something special. But my brain tells me to get a grip.
Finally we need a guitarist and it just so happens that we’ve already got one – me.
It’s only taken me 20 years to master five chords, but my word do I know them well now.
My repertoire is somewhat limited if I’m honest. I can just about cobble together a couple of Beatles tunes and at a push, an Oasis ditty (they sound uncannily similar).
So there we have it. Just like The Osmonds and the Kings of Leon, we have the sprouting buds of a fresh new family band.
Granted, we may need some polishing up and we may look slightly odd on stage together in matching Freddie Mercury-esque outfits.
But if there’s ever been a time to start dressing your family up in Lycra and jumping around the lounge it has to be Christmas morning.