Wednesday, 30 December 2009

Dancing Prancing Elves

Christmas season...we have eaten our combined body weight in biscuits, cheese and chocolate. We have imbibed probably a bathtubs worth of fine wines, champagne and spirits. And we still have the New Year's celebration to get through (audible tummy groan).

As far as Christmas presents go, the surprise hit of the season (in addition to the blasted bloody Pokemon cards!) were a couple of giant donkey heads attached to long posts. Press the right ear and the loud galloping song comes on, Egg and Dumpie whooping with delight as they chase each other around the house from room to room (sigh). Given that a giant paper mache donkey head currently shares prime position with our traditional Christmas tree gold star, you could say that it's been a rather donkey-themed affair this year.

We've watched Mary Poppins, The Grinch, Frosty the Snowman, Elf, Bad Santa, Love Actually, Serendipity and Chevy Chase's Christmas Vacation. In short, we've made our way through our the annual Christmas dvd bonanza and now look forward to the onset of the last ever Celebrity Big Brother in January. Yes we're lame-o's...

Christmas this year was made delightfully special by the coercion of the monsters into ridiculous elf costumes for the duration. Eggie looked utterly adorable (as always) but Dumpie looked completely hysterical and caused random compulsive choking fits of giggles whenever he'd walk by. Whereas last year he floated about in the costume, this year it fits his rounded little belly to perfection and the red and white striped tights hugged his little thighs most delightfully...

Very little can rival the hilarity of a 'pissy Christmas elf', and Dumps spent the day throwing up his little arms in frustration (as if knowing how ridiculous he looked) and declaring, "Why me have to wear this ALL DAY?!"

(Umm...well you see Dumpie...all the adults in this house have been tipping back the bottles all day and hence find the sight of you uproarious. One day you'll understand...)

So now New Year's looms. Last year the husband ditched me shortly after midnight (and a hastily gulped bottle of champagne) to go elsewhere with friends (childless ones I might add) and p-a-r-t-y the night away.

This year however he has put plans in motion to host our own New Year's shindig.

Although the thought of our dear home getting a bashing isn't very appealing, no other alternatives have presented themselves.

For you see, if the husband dare pulls another fast one again like last year (...and by again I mean as in long as we both shall live) simply doesn't bear thinking about.

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