You see the single mom has to be everyone, all rolled into one. Present wrapper. Present buyer. Fun parent. Strict parent. Father Christmas.
The Daughter left out not one, not two, but three beers for Father Christmas (and three mince pies). He's a busy guy, you know. He needs refreshment.
So Mom is Father Christmas. And I was forced to drink all three beers and eat all three mince pies while wrapping a grotesque amount of presents. And then I washed it all down with a cup of tea.
The present wrapping, alone, took close on four hours. It's got to be done right. And The Pant has a penchant for ribbons. I like gifts to look pretty. Not that The Daughter or The Nephew and certainly not The Niece notice. The Liner family has spent more on wrapping paper than most families spend on groceries in a year.
And now I'm petrified. The Daughter is due to wake up in 4 hours and 37 minutes and I can't sleep. I can't sleep because I'm on some kind of alcohol-cum-sugar-cum-caffeine high. (I should patent this high and sell it at large night clubs that have several dance floors all of which blare "house" music [house? in whose house?] - I'd make a killing.). The Daughter possibly is not aware of this, but if I stay awake much longer, she's going to possess the power to crush me like a worm come 9 am.
And I also can't sleep because I'm super effing excited. I can't wait to feel Christmas the way she does - with every fibre of her being. I can't wait to watch her take delight in each and every gift. I can't wait to see the awe in her eyes the moment she realises that he actually came, and dropped off prezzies for her and her cousins.
And I can't wait for the post-excitement high to wear off and the desperate exhaustion to set in so that we can steal away for a long afternoon nap in a cool dark room. God knows we'll be needing it.
The Pant wishes you a super rad Christmas. Hope yours is filled with as much light and joy as mine <3 <3 <3
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