An Ending

Amidst a dramatic performance of “I don’t want Christmas to end” by our (somewhat dramatic) three year old, the Christmas tree was stripped of all its glory.

Bells and balls were removed and packed neatly into their boxes. The Angel was retreived from the depths of the lower branches, were Godzilla saw fit to place her this year, and the Santa Hat removed from its position, where it had sat, gracing the top of the tree for a month.

“Just in case it got cold” allegedly.

And then Grumpy came to help.

For many a year the tree has been my domain. He had no interest in it. In decorating it. In undressing it.

Except this year it had to be done “now” so it could go in the garden waste for pickup tomorrow morning.

Someone else nearly lost his balls by removing all three sets of lights in one go and dumping them on the floor in one heap!!!

I’ve never experienced this before.

It was horrific.

By this stage we’d moved from “I don’t want Christmas to end” to “I want a chocolate” (yes there were a few left, I’m surprised that a three year old has a limit, even when it comes to chocolate) and finally on to “I want a chocolate NOW!”

This is not good to say to Mummy when she’s untangling effing Christmas tree lights.

More tantrums ensued.

Pretty much at the point where they would just not untangle and Grumpy walked in and said “Oh, that’s easy, just shake them”.

I, calmly, handballed the task, only to have to resume due to the complete screwup of untangling he had caused.

Four hours of my life wasted on Christmas lights. I’ll never see those again.

Missed a pamper night and glass of wine with a friend as a result.

Perhaps, this year, I’ll just wrap them around his throat really tightly before we begin.

That should solve the problem.

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