Would Ryan Tubridy wear a Christmas jumper on the Late Late Toy Show? As twinkly Christmas music played and the opening graphics rolled, a country held its breath. Well, initially it seemed that in a surprise move Ryan had dressed as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. It was an idiosyncratic gesture from the skinny young Late Late Show host, no doubt under a lot of pressure to upstage his predecessors.

Hold the presses... actually, the Dorothy figure was a talented child singer taking part in the big Wizard of Oz–themed dance routine which opened the show. Tubridy himself was wearing a rather understated wine V-neck and brown cords. It's a measure of how successfully the Toy Show has wormed its way into our affections that Tubridy's clothes were actually part of the news agenda. But by 9.40pm that question had been answered, another important ingredient was already in place (precocious performing kids) and the next question was on our lips: how would the self-styled 'nerd of chat' engage with those psychotic little midgets parents like to call "children"?

Very well, it seems. After a cautious caveat ("Santa's very busy this year so he mightn't be able to bring as much as other years. So manage your expectations children!"), he scampered breathlessly from child to child and toy to toy, engaging in boisterous hurly-burly whilst simultaneously throwing out witty adult-friendly asides ("We'll all be speaking in cockney accents in three weeks if we play with these!" he says of some English accented talking-gadgets). He led impromptu sing-songs with the gift-engorged audience members and let himself get dragged into funny unrehearsed segments (like getting one big-eyed little girl whose mammy wouldn't let her have a pet to plead for one down the lens of the camera – "That was so mean, sorry!" he winced immediately after to her mum).

Tubridy is good with kids. His predecessor wasn't quite so comfortable. Indeed, Pat Kenny often looked completely surprised when he encountered children on the Toy Show, as if the producer had forgotten to tell him they'd be there, and people generally watched on the off-chance he'd freak out and attack one out of pure terror.

Which was the wrong sort of appeal, really, because the Toy Show should never be about the presenter – the stars should always be the kids. For example: "young culchie of the year" Mark McSharry, who pedalled in on some sort of fake four-by-four pulling a trailer of, for the most part, agriculturally-themed toys. He also had an insect-catching kit featuring a net, tweezers, and a sort of arthropod Guantanamo. When he showed Ryan his haul they were all dead.

"You're supposed to leave them back a half an hour after finding them," Mark explained, "but I didn't" he admitted frankly, with little sign of remorse.

Then there was the traditional parade of sullen/enthusiastic/dazed children on pedal vehicles – a soviet-style display of child power. One pre-schooler riding a bright pink Vespa could recite all the counties in Ireland. Dublin child Luke Keogh played some virtuosic violin ("Anyone feel inadequate?" Tubridy asked). Zena Donnelly, sister of Max, the little boy who inspired the Wings of Love Fund, belted out a Whitney Houston song like someone four times her size. John Joe, an individualistic and bespectacled young child with dreams of a career in horology (watch-making) reviewed some books and in the process showed the country what real leadership looked like.

There were even some celebrity appearances. Evanna Lynch, the talented young actress from the Harry Potter films, sat down beside some excited Potter fans. Westlife performed and were reunited with Brian McFadden (editor's note – um, that was actually a man in a Mr Tayto suit, Patrick), and Jedward leapt inarticulately into the studio to the Ghostbusters theme, like tragically enthusiastic puppies who don't realise a final trip to the pound is looming.

It was great stuff really.