Luckily my gorgeous brother Shane came home from Iraq (He wasnt due home for another week or so) and he is such a fabtastic cook that he willingly took over the duties. Dad and I then sat on the sofa and proceeed to get drunk... a couple of bottles of wine later and a bottle of port and a bottle of wiskly and we were doing the "your fab", "No, jor Flab, fab" "I love you" thing.
Dylan woke the house at about 5.30 and we attempted to get him back to bed. Mum and I lay on her bed, I with my head nodding (Why did I drink so much) and mum wishing desperately attempting to not vomit. Hmmm maybe we were both trying not to be sick.
Anyway at a healthy 8.30 we groaned, moaned and drove ourselves from our beds. Dylan was put in front of his big box (Decorated about 10.30 before the port but after the wine). It had a couple of balloons in with feathers, bubbles and sparkly bits, with a few tinker toys and basic cheap but cheerful crap.
After saying to everyone "dont buy him much" Dylans pile of pressies was huge.
The mess was fantastic and feathers, sparkly bits and fun flew threw the air. Wrapping paper was, of course, the most played with thing and the big box was a total hit.
Wine,
good food,
family
and a surplus of love abounded. This was probably one of the nicest Christmases Ive had in such a long time.
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