What a Winter it has been so far. Chaotic days
at work, a succession of colds that almost felt like one long bug that just
never left my system, and then a simply wonderful Yuletime, where family
memories were created that will live forever and bring joy with each
remembering. Christmas just gets so much better when you're a parent, and it
keeps getting better and better as each year goes by. Mathew, at 7, is
absolutely prime age for the whole Father Christmas shenanigans, and little
Rian, despite his younger day count and less experience of the whole affair,
seemed equally as enthusiastic. I think, at times, he was just going along with
his older brother and not really understanding what was happening, but by God
we got some wonderful moments with them, and not just on the morning of The Big
Day itself. I have hundreds of photos that I could share if I ever decided to
make this blog a phlog (or whatever you call a blog with photos attached) but
some of the best images in my mind are ones that we never even captured. Rian
with a sticky bow stuck to his head after ripping into a loosely wrapped
present; Mathew getting so excited when his Aunty Hannah turned up unannounced
that he nearly hyperventilated; same son tackling a turkey leg because he
wanted to 'eat like Homer'; the look of despair on Philippa's face when the lit
brandy set off the smoke alarm; seeing myself in the mirror with tears of joy
on my cheeks as the occasion got too much for me. All this and more, rolled
into one big week-plus celebration of loveliness that gave us all goosebumps
and left us all lethargic and spent.
And now, when we are into a New Year and facing a return to the norm, we have a
beautiful covering of snow on the ground to enhance the beauty of the area and
to continue the festive feelings.
Good. Times.
RC 5-1-26
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