It was our first Christmas. The children had moved in 9 months previously. I was still on adoption leave, so had time to prepare. I wanted to make new memories. To create new traditions. To create some magic.
The house resembled a garden centre festive display. There were lights everywhere. Tinsel hung off absolutely everything. We baked. We made a ginger bread house, which collapsed. We delivered cards. We went to the big Church for the carol service.
Christmas Eve came. We watched Father Christmas’ progress on the Internet. We put out reindeer food on the lawn. We changed into the Christmas pyjamas. We put out a little bottle of beer and a mince pie for Santa. They want to bed surprisingly easily. Not a sound.
I sprinkled flour on the floor in front of the fireplace and put boot prints leading to each of the sacks of presents. All was calm. All was peaceful.
As the dawn began to break I could hear the REALLY loud whispers, “Could we?” “Should we?” “Let’s ask!”. A herd of elephants descended in to my room. We went down stairs, we flung the door open. Gasps of “He’s been, he’s actually been!” Followed by ….
“Why’s he put flour everywhere? I can’t open anything until I cleared up.” Out came the vacuum cleaner. 07.37 on our first Christmas morning together, and the Mini is cleaning!
I had purposely only put a selection of presents out, so as not to overwhelm them. We opened. We tried. We found the batteries, then we found some more batteries that worked.
We had breakfast, with the intention of getting more presents after breakfast. I asked if they had got what the wanted for Christmas
Mini looked at me and said “Yes, a family Christmas” ….
Wishing you calm and peaceful Christmas. Xxx