We survived. Three whole days and the closest I came to anything christmas themed was the Dr Who special. I escaped the brief attempt at playing christmas carols, thanks to my trusty headphones, before mum conceeded. Apparently it's not as much fun if I can't hear them. The siblings were all well behaved, and there was not a single fight to be had. Almost didn't feel like christmas. Am still very glad to be home. Apparently christmas 2011 will be here. I've got 11 months to try and figure out how to get out of that one.
There was of course the lack of contact from my fathers family, which I'm not overly concerned about. As is traditional this time of year, we extend an olive brach to those that have hurt us. My brother extended his to our father, with a letter and photos of my nieces. There has been no reply. The bets regarding both olive branches have been made, but with new years closing in it seems unlikely that either of us will lose. Disappointing, but not altogether unexpected.
I did get to spend some quailty time with my nieces, Yoda in particular. No, they did not name my niece Yoda. The poor girl has been dealt an unfortunate genetic hand. She has come into this world with my nose, eyes, and the same pointed ears as me. She doesn't seem to have my attitude yet, but her parents have decided that to correct this they are making me "The Godfather." For all of my defects she is a very cute child, something she exploits shamelessly when it comes to food. Even with only two teeth she chomped through a gingerninja. How she still had room after the trifle, custard, milk, and babyfood ... she is definately one of us.
The most depressing thing of the last few days has to have been the death of Elisabeth Beresford, creator of The Wombles. All I could do was sing the theme song quietly to myself. It's sad when the few (happy) remaining links to our childhood leave us.
There was of course the lack of contact from my fathers family, which I'm not overly concerned about. As is traditional this time of year, we extend an olive brach to those that have hurt us. My brother extended his to our father, with a letter and photos of my nieces. There has been no reply. The bets regarding both olive branches have been made, but with new years closing in it seems unlikely that either of us will lose. Disappointing, but not altogether unexpected.
I did get to spend some quailty time with my nieces, Yoda in particular. No, they did not name my niece Yoda. The poor girl has been dealt an unfortunate genetic hand. She has come into this world with my nose, eyes, and the same pointed ears as me. She doesn't seem to have my attitude yet, but her parents have decided that to correct this they are making me "The Godfather." For all of my defects she is a very cute child, something she exploits shamelessly when it comes to food. Even with only two teeth she chomped through a gingerninja. How she still had room after the trifle, custard, milk, and babyfood ... she is definately one of us.
The most depressing thing of the last few days has to have been the death of Elisabeth Beresford, creator of The Wombles. All I could do was sing the theme song quietly to myself. It's sad when the few (happy) remaining links to our childhood leave us.
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