Christmas is always over in a flash isn't it?
It creeps up on you slowly, ever so slowly, from the first glimpse of those mix-and-match gifts in Boots in mid-October to the sparkle of a Christmas tree in the Tescos’ entrance in mid-November to - bang - Christmas Day.
Ben was first up on Christmas morning.
He stirred at just gone 7am and wandered into our bedroom to get us up too. Not a word about Santa though. Aww. He'll learn. We did try. We then went into Ciaran’s room for a quick nappy-changing session.
When I’d finished with Ciaran, I left both boys with Mummy, closed the door and slipped downstairs to switch on our Christmas tree lights for added effect.
That was it though. No more lights were on downstairs, just the flickering tree.
It was dark and magical, with sparkling white light bouncing off wrapping paper and stockings on the mantlepiece. How would Ben react we wondered. We built him up a bit more.
"Ben, do you know what day it is today? Do you think Santa has been? You've been a good boy haven't you? Shall we find out?" We crept down the stairs slowly, in fact, ridiculously slowly. We were positively milking this moment. Had Santa been?
Erm, he had. In fact, he'd left a bloomin mess in our living room. Presents everywhere. You couldn't get near the place.
Ben was beside himself with excitement.
He ran over to the presents and we grabbed the camera to take some snaps of some very tired parents and some wide-awake boys. Ben got loads of good stuff and so did Ciaran, although Ciaran seemed more interested in tearing down the tree and chewing on wrapping paper.
Keeping with festive tradition, we then beat a track to the in-laws for the remainder Christmas Day.
We pulled up outside the house mid-morning, roads still treacherous with ice and car groaning under the weight of baby high chairs, buggy and essentials.
Auntie Sally rushed out gleefully to greet everyone. Ben couldn't wait to see her. Auntie Sally is never off the phone to him and regularly comes down from York to see the little ones, and they rushed inside.
I, meanwhile, unloaded the stuff from the car. I never travel light at the best of times.
I just don't know how Santa copes, heaving that heavy sack of his around with his bare hands before taking a perilous plunge down a chimney, landing on hot ash more often than not, and then climbing back up the chimney, sooty sack clenched in teeth to free up the hands for grip.
Hot mugs of tea and coffee were quickly exchanged to warm us up and after some more unwrapping of presents, we all sat down to watch Mummy's parent’s video of their recent trip to South Africa and its nature reserves.
My mother-in-law, Gill, had predicted the day before that the video would bore the pants off me. She promptly followed this up with another prediction that it would bring me nothing but displeasure.
How well does she know me!! I've been a fan of the National Geographic for, erm, years, a member of Whipsnade Zoo for, erm, years and I love to travel!!
It was then time for the centrepiece of the day. The Christmas turkey.
It had been waiting patiently in the kitchen for hours. Lush, golden and locally-sourced from a Bedfordshire farm, it arrived on our plates in varying portions generously accompanied by potatoes, stuffing, brussels, sausages-in-bacon and other trimmings.
We all struggled to finish what was before us, all except for Ciaran that is.
I was gob-smacked by how much the little 8-month-old had eaten. Or so I thought. When I lifted him out of his high chair, the little illusionist had managed to spill enough food on his lap and around his bum to feed a cat for a week.
Daddy and Ben pulled their first Christmas cracker and we all assembled to the living room for some much-needed rest and recuperation.
When we'd recovered, we launched into a game of Trivial Pursuit.
Everyone of an adult age joined in except for Barry. Barry always passes up the opportunity of participating in the Christmas Day board game challenge. I never know why. He always ends up barking out answers and helping Gill. The pressure of taking part must be too much for him.
I briefly spoke with my parents, who'd just returned from a cruise in the Caribbean, and later in the day, when I was almost falling asleep after too much food, to my brother, to thank them all once again for their thoughtful presents.
Christmas Day soon slipped into its best evening wear and we all assumed the usual horizontal positions on leather sofas with beer, wine and nibbles never too far out of reach.
A series of Christmas specials flashed before our narrowing eyes and Sally, as always, was the first to succumb to tiredness and went to bed at about 10.30pm. She has no stamina that girl. I don't know how she can summon the energy to stay out night clubbing till the small hours of the morning.
Still, Mummy and Daddy weren't far behind. Mummy succumbed next and we both called it a night.
Ciaran's first Christmas and Ben's third had gone by very merrily indeed and I get the feeling the older they get, the more magical each and every Christmas will get.
No comments:
Post a Comment