But I forgot to tell the kids “to all a good night”,  because they got up and excitedly thundered downstairs at ten minutes to one in the morning! Husband and I were just drifting off to sleep after watching his fave movie Love Actually and then talking about boobs, and so we were a bit stunned and sleepy. Was it morning already? Hail no. He ushered them back upstairs, and then did the same thing just two hours later, poor guy. It almost sounds like a night time breastfeeding routine. He slept upstairs with them that time (co-sleeping much?) and then came back four hours later after getting kicked around by 8yo, headsy-toesy style. 7 and 5yos also came down then, but 8yo is still asleep upstsirs now, and 7yo has pronounced this “the worst Christmas ever”, presumably because he has been awake for nearly two hours and has only basked in the glory of the gifts of life and a plentiful panty, ho hum. Meanwhile, I can’t find any underpants and I’m a bit hungover; woe is the life of early retirement. I’m excited for an eventual morning of tea and toast, and thankfulness and recycling.

Merry Christmas!