Christmas, although lovely, has left a slightly funny taste in my mouth (and no its not just the combination of too many chocolate orange segments washed down with Hendricks, which incidentally is a pretty decent pairing). I’ve seen the magic of Christmas with a child just old enough to understand it and I’ve also seen the aftermath.
A complete lack or routine, no pre-school for 2 weeks, a diet varied only by E numbers, visits, visitors, present upon present despite being a little……, making empty threats and approving ridiculous requests has led to, shall we say, a rather dramatic decline in behavior levels.
I sway between being angry and disappointed that I seem to have raised such a seemingly ungrateful and spoiled child and wondering what the hell I expected? Showering a 3 year old in chocolate, glitter and yes’s for 3 days before swiftly turning the off tap was never going to end well was it?
A bowl full of christmas nuts ready to crack.
A car load of goodies a delight to unpack.
Pulling ridiculous Christmas jumper poses.
Debating the plus points of Quality Street vs. Roses.
Everyone’s hair has a sprinkling of glitter.
A surplus family member is freebie babysitter.
Mouth watering oven snacks from M&S.
Tearing off wrapping makes a colourful mess.
Eating (more) cheese and avoiding Boxing Day sales.
Cosy and comfy away from the gales.
Whats not to like when there’s mulled wine on tap?
Plus there’s bonus points for a well strategised nap*.
* although these may be outweighed by embarrassing photographic evidence
As i peruse the photo i took today of F role playing with his Playmobil advent calender i wonder if the scene may be a premonition of the Christmas to come.
A rabid reindeer running amok (representing the small ones) bodies strewn amidst the chaos (those sensible enough to get drunk) santa pleading for his life with a mere carrot (a warning that any negotiations involving carrots are futile).