There goes Christmas, for another year... and I can finally breathe again. For now. We were graced with a long awaited glorious Summer's day, in the form of blue, sun shiny skies. Perfect timing. For the first time, Angus truly absorbed the magic of the day and his excitement was infectious. Shrieks of delight, squeals of joy and declarations of gratitude. Each new gift unwrapped, instantly proclaimed the favourite. Felix, a little less affected by the merriment, remained content to take a back seat and let his big bro lead the way. Being the babies of both families, the boys were a huge hit with their aunties and uncles and cousins and grandparents. Everyone keen to soak up some of their youthful wonder and enthusiasm.
Though one thing that continues to concern me with Christmas (and it seems to become more and more absurd each year), are the multitude of toys received. The sheer volume of brand spanking new, whizz-bang toys that now reside in our home does make me feel slightly uneasy. I do get it, because I love nothing more than buying things for all the little people in our lives also. And I do remember having oodles of toys and nik naks myself, as a child. Thankfully, we are modest gift buyer's and don't go overboard by any stretch ourselves. Because judging by the lack of floor and storage space at our place, post Christmas, we may not physically fit in, if not so prudent.