The shops shelves are already groaning under the weight of all those cinnamon-scented candles and holly-festooned 'quality' biscuit tins which you will put in a cupboard now and forget about.

What's that you say? Too early? Not feeling festive yet? It's obscenely commercial nowadays and all you got in your day was an orange and were glad of it?

Personally I can't wait. I've started my countdown to Christmas and am already searching out 'themes' for my tree in interiors magazines and wondering whether to repeat last years successful chestnut and apricot stuffing or try something new. Of course, the thing that makes Christmas really special is the little ones, isn't it? The look on their adorable little faces at 7am when they have already consumed threequarters of a Cadbury's selection stocking and are tearing open the gifts it took you six weeks to source and pay for, harassing you for batteries before casting them aside in favour of a pound-shop trinket in their stocking.

AAAAAARGH! How will I ever get through it again!

However, there may be some solace to be found from that most unexpected of corners . . . the North Pole. For those of you parents out there who are counting down to The Late Late Toy Show and the horrendous crush to equip your beloved offspring with their heart's desire that ensues, let me tell you of a new initiative that Santa Claus's office is launching this year.

I know about Santa's New Ruling because our gentle and easily pleased five-year-old started school in September. With the result that he is gradually transmogrifying into one of those tantruming horrors that you see in the supermarket and think "that's the parents' fault". It's quite common, apparently.

Seemingly, after five hours of being good in a school uniform he likes to let rip. "It's because he can, " my retired-teacher mother informs me.

Nothing heavy, you understand, just lots of "I HATE YOU" and "I WANT" and other stuff that makes we naive parents-of-one-single child panic and wonder where we have failed. (Parents of two are generally smug and knowing of these things.

Parents of three always just seem harassed and rather cross with themselves for having got cocky and thinking they could manage more than two . . . or having been stupid and celebrated the birth of their much wanted second child with sex.

Parents of four, five or over are invariably gloriously laidback. ) So this year Santa has stepped up his Campaign for Good Children.

Last year, it was just a general, "you'd better be good" verbal warning. Sometimes we would point out one of his spies watching us if we were bordering on a restaurant tantrum or had forgotten to say 'thank-you' to a shopkeeper. But this year, Santa's office is doing spot-checks, like the Vat inspector, on a random number of five-year-olds across the world.

Imagine our surprise when we got one the week after Hallowe'en . . .

which is when the first batch of 'Official Warnings' go out. It came in the form of an email on Daddy's computer. Daddy's a graphic designer and was very impressed with Santa's new logo and corporate image. The email was a warning.

Our son would get his requested presents, but he has to keep up his end of the bargain. He's got to start eating vegetables between now and Christmas and please and thankyous are to be re-introduced. No more hating anybody . . . most especially his wonderful parents who are, according to Mr Claus, exemplary.

What else did he say . . . oh yes, no more 'I wants', playing nicely with his cousins, not saying bad words, no whinging, going to bed on time, sharing. That about covers it. It's hard to explain how Santa suddenly has all this personal information at his fingertips except that this year he joined forces with Holy God.

Holy God sees everything so there is no getting away with anything.

Anything at all, between now and the end of December. Next year, if it's a success, Santa is thinking of stepping it up to six . . . maybe even seven-year-olds. Now, at last, I have a reason for the Christmas season to come early.

And people say children are manipulative. Anyone got the number of a good therapist? I think there's a lad around here might need one in about 20 years' time.