Post-Christmas.

And in a flash, it was done.

Christmas is over at the rate of knots usually reserved for asteroids, and we are into the post-Christmas melancholy phase. Little ones dot about tinkering with their new things as parents try and free up space, crush cardboard and perpetually eat and drink. It’s a good time really, with most people in good spirits (D…) and the feeling of being surrounded by those we love and appreciate. We think of those less fortunate, those we’ve lost.

We watched the Snowman on Christmas Eve and it’s definitely on par with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory for sadness. I don’t know if it’s being self-employed or just the position in life we are in, but it doesn’t feel like Christmas. To me it feels more like a special Birthday, as we watched Missy tentatively engage with these parcels that have appeared under the tree, before realising quickly that there’s exciting things within. It turns to a frenzy of shouting and paper and noise.

We are not part of the buy to excess crowd. We never have been and never will be. Missy is fortunate, we recognise we are too and try where possible to keep her happy and excited without going overboard. We don’t take out second mortgages or drive ourselves into debt for this one-day-a-year consumerist bonanza. It sickens me to see the ludicrous and often disgusting examples of excess gift buying, with rationales of “we want the best for our kids”. The monumental rod these parents are making for their own backs must be uncomfortable. Anyway, we had a nice day and everyone was happy.

Today we headed for a walk to stretch the legs, stomachs and fill our lungs with something other than wine fumes. Santa received Eva’s letter for an orange bike and he managed to work his magic, so we headed up to Perth to give Missy a good stretch of smoothness to get herself acquainted.

The In-Laws joined us for our walk. It was overcast and quite cool but certainly nothing like Christmas Eve. It was busy as we walked, some with new bikes and scooters, others with wee electric cars. Others with new hats. Missy kept shouting at the other children without helmets, calling them naughty and wondering why they’d risk the likely brain damage from a severe fall, over just sticking a polystyrene shell over their head. I agreed, profusely. It always amazes me that parents can let their kids go horsing around on bikes and the like, without head protection on. If they can afford the shiny bike, the iPhone X they’re bashing and the cigarette they’re smoking as their child bombs around the place, then they can afford some simple, easy to deploy safety measures for their little miracle. It seems so stupid why they’d not notice this incredibly affordable damage counter-measure, yet are happy strolling along without a care in the world, egging their spawn to go faster, to turn quicker. Mental.

Eva lost her composure towards the end, tired from the frantic pedalling and the cold biting into her wee face. The In-laws invited us all to theirs for some din dins and we accepted with gratitude. An evening of nice food and company rounding out a nice impromptu whirl around the beautiful city of Perth. What a historic city it is, with a number of lovely sculptures, statues and plaques to read, investigate and enjoy. It’s got a lot to offer, if you get away from the shopping centres and head to the outskirts.

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