Tuesday, December 30, 2014

The annual holiday report...

This time last year, I shared the following story with you. Click here for a reminder of the carnage. This year Jack informed me: "Here's an idea. Maybe just don't put the gifts under the tree early, just to make sure we don't open them." Here's a thought Jack - maybe I should have you tested for mutant sociopath genes.

Last year was also the year of the botched gingerbread house, see Exhibit A:

Yet another culinary disaster - apparently the icing needs to set before you apply the roof. Whatever. I fucking hate making Gingerbread houses. Upon the caving of the roof, Jack informed me: "Hey Mommy, it looks like a house from the Philippines." Thank you, Captain Current Affairs. To which Peanut then added, rather gravely: "Maybe next year Daddy should do it."

Well, this year Daddy did do it. And of course it was a masterpiece. Show-off.

Christmas morning went off without a hitch, although I don't think Isla was impressed having been woken by her brothers at the crack of dawn. I've never seen a yawn that big around Elsa...how dare she lack reverence in the presence of the Ice Queen, never mind baby Jesus's birthday. Kids nowadays. No shame. Our singing Elsa reminded me (approximately 9,000 times) to let that shit go.
Even though they each have their own electronic devices, there always seems to be that one with the best games. So the line-up begins. James can be seen here delivering his very best: "Back off, bitch. I'm next." face.

From our house to yours, all the best in 2015. I predict it's the year my husband will agree to "sit" for a professional family photo. One can only work with the photos one has.

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