Jingle, jingle, ho ho ho and mince pies

So there we are, it’s too late for any more preparation, the big fellow’s on his way, so if you’ve forgotten anything vital then, as they say, your goose (or other big bird) will be cooked.

There’s just time for me to wish you a very happy Christmas and to share a few of the things I’ve learned in the past few weeks.

Your present to self won’t stay shiny for long.
Own up, you all do it: sixteen things for them and one for me. Mine this year was a new pair of winter boots. I’d had them on for around three hours and only taken enough outside steps to get to the bin when Boy Three vomited in them.

Catalogues are, apparently, great reading. Normally Boys One and Two show little interest in what the postperson brings unless a birthday looms. Lately though they’ve been falling over themselves to snatch the avalanche of catalogues off the door mat. Then they’ll thumb through them and, in Boy Two’s case, mark them with complex multicoloured notes.

Glitter is tenacious. Once you allow it into your house it will not leave. Instead, it moves, like magic. Today I found some in my eyebrow.

Cuddles, smiles and togetherness are yukky.
Boy One was keen to know what was on my Santa list. Particularly if I had made the tricky choice between things Doctor Who and things Harry Potter and “you can’t say you want kisses or lover or any of that yukky stuff”.

So, in spite of what Boy One says (and I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, partial, as he is, to a cuddle), I wish everyone a very yukky Christmas and a glittery new year.

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