![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I felt like a witch because I beat the weather Gods. I was able to go running before it began to rain. In fact it was quite pretty out. Then it went sideways when I took a shower. I AM THE WEATHER GOD NOW!
We are doing our best to be lazy lumps this fine day but I still managed to do a couple of things like bake more mince pies. They are all right as British Christmas food goes but they aren't my favorite. Mr. Jenner, and Senor Onion like them. So I bake them. There was heart-break earlier today when Senor Onion discovered that his father had eaten the last one. I think he could have handled it better but his father had ALSO eaten the last piece of fudge the other day and well this was the limit. Thankfully we had mince meat in the house, and pastry is easy to make. Senor Onion won't have to maim his father today.
I took Miss Biscuit to the village children's Christmas party. It is technically in the next village, but everyone in the surrounding area shows up. I remember taking Senor Onion to his first one when he was about two years old, when we were visiting one Christmas. It was notable because he caught his first cold there, I was newly pregnant with my second, caught said cold and because of my condition could not take any fun medication. (and I hadn't told anyone I was pregnant yet so I wasn't drinking either.) And I recall one child beating a pinata with such fierceness and shouting, "I WILL MURDER YOU!" (Merry Christmas indeed motherfuckers.) Oh and some less than hot tea. Senor Onion chose to stay home this year. I said, "but you won't get a gift from father christmas!" "That's cool. I am going to play minecraft."
So off we went to the party. It was a bit like walking into the Beaux Art Ball scene in "American in Paris". Lots of screaming, some in costume, loud music, and general chaos. Plus art. Lots of arty activities. It is well organized by some mothers who hold a weekly playgroup for their babies/toddlers. There were activities to do, crafts to make, screaming and running around to engage in. At least two children were in tears at various points. (Including mine.) I found my sisters in law. One just had her birthday so I brought her a present. Then I had a chat with the other about Christmas Eve. We are having her, her boyfriend, and all the kids over for tea time, and of course dinner. I promised my twin nieces that there would be a lot of sweets. And maybe a movie. Because I am the fun auntie who always has baked goods, and candy. And I never tell you to eat your vegetables. (just my children. EAT YOUR FUCKING CARROTS, you don't want rickets.) Ran into a few other people I don't see very often. P. (who grew up with my sister in law Kat,) was in town with her kids (visiting family.) P's daughter met my son, at Kat's wedding a number of years back and while they don't see each other all of the time (usually about once a year, as they now live in Wales in the middle of nowhere.) they have always gotten along and love seeing each other. (Senor Onion was a little bit disappointed when he heard that B. had been there and he had missed her. I will have to find a way for them to meet up.) The tea (after all these years) is slightly less than hot, but free tea is free tea. Then there was the giant tea and cake time for the kids. Miss Biscuit the ever picky child chose to eat caramel corn, satsumas, and jaffa cakes. Well... at least she won't get scurvy. Or something. Then there was the pinata. There is always the pinata. And it was kind of terrifying to watch the children swoop in on the candy. This circle imploded and became a sea of legs and screams. (and minor injuries) At one point, one of the kids was wearing the dismembered pinata horse's head on their own head. A small child got a hold of the stick, and thwacked Miss Biscuit with it. I don't think he had intended to do it but she ended up with a nice bruise on her shoulder.
Finally it was time for the main event. Father Christmas! He is considered THE Father Christmas in this area. Yes Father Christmas has a west country accent but he has been everyone's Father Christmas for over thirty years. We all love to see him, and this is what he does so well. All the children got presents, and raced around with glee. There was a moment when V. (one of the children) told Miss Biscuit, "He isn't the real Father Christmas. Father Christmas is fake." I stepped in, side-eyed little V. and said, "You seem awfully sure about things. Isn't it lovely to get a present from someone who thinks everyone deserves a gifts and each one is so thoughtfully picked out. What a pretty doll you have there." Then I hustled Miss Biscuit away from that potential crime scene. Miss Biscuit hasn't given up on Santa Claus yet and frankly children need all the little bits of magic in life before it turns into back aches, and tax forms. She loved her new whale shark toy.
We had our fill of fun, and went home to make macaroni and cheese.
We are doing our best to be lazy lumps this fine day but I still managed to do a couple of things like bake more mince pies. They are all right as British Christmas food goes but they aren't my favorite. Mr. Jenner, and Senor Onion like them. So I bake them. There was heart-break earlier today when Senor Onion discovered that his father had eaten the last one. I think he could have handled it better but his father had ALSO eaten the last piece of fudge the other day and well this was the limit. Thankfully we had mince meat in the house, and pastry is easy to make. Senor Onion won't have to maim his father today.
I took Miss Biscuit to the village children's Christmas party. It is technically in the next village, but everyone in the surrounding area shows up. I remember taking Senor Onion to his first one when he was about two years old, when we were visiting one Christmas. It was notable because he caught his first cold there, I was newly pregnant with my second, caught said cold and because of my condition could not take any fun medication. (and I hadn't told anyone I was pregnant yet so I wasn't drinking either.) And I recall one child beating a pinata with such fierceness and shouting, "I WILL MURDER YOU!" (Merry Christmas indeed motherfuckers.) Oh and some less than hot tea. Senor Onion chose to stay home this year. I said, "but you won't get a gift from father christmas!" "That's cool. I am going to play minecraft."
So off we went to the party. It was a bit like walking into the Beaux Art Ball scene in "American in Paris". Lots of screaming, some in costume, loud music, and general chaos. Plus art. Lots of arty activities. It is well organized by some mothers who hold a weekly playgroup for their babies/toddlers. There were activities to do, crafts to make, screaming and running around to engage in. At least two children were in tears at various points. (Including mine.) I found my sisters in law. One just had her birthday so I brought her a present. Then I had a chat with the other about Christmas Eve. We are having her, her boyfriend, and all the kids over for tea time, and of course dinner. I promised my twin nieces that there would be a lot of sweets. And maybe a movie. Because I am the fun auntie who always has baked goods, and candy. And I never tell you to eat your vegetables. (just my children. EAT YOUR FUCKING CARROTS, you don't want rickets.) Ran into a few other people I don't see very often. P. (who grew up with my sister in law Kat,) was in town with her kids (visiting family.) P's daughter met my son, at Kat's wedding a number of years back and while they don't see each other all of the time (usually about once a year, as they now live in Wales in the middle of nowhere.) they have always gotten along and love seeing each other. (Senor Onion was a little bit disappointed when he heard that B. had been there and he had missed her. I will have to find a way for them to meet up.) The tea (after all these years) is slightly less than hot, but free tea is free tea. Then there was the giant tea and cake time for the kids. Miss Biscuit the ever picky child chose to eat caramel corn, satsumas, and jaffa cakes. Well... at least she won't get scurvy. Or something. Then there was the pinata. There is always the pinata. And it was kind of terrifying to watch the children swoop in on the candy. This circle imploded and became a sea of legs and screams. (and minor injuries) At one point, one of the kids was wearing the dismembered pinata horse's head on their own head. A small child got a hold of the stick, and thwacked Miss Biscuit with it. I don't think he had intended to do it but she ended up with a nice bruise on her shoulder.
Finally it was time for the main event. Father Christmas! He is considered THE Father Christmas in this area. Yes Father Christmas has a west country accent but he has been everyone's Father Christmas for over thirty years. We all love to see him, and this is what he does so well. All the children got presents, and raced around with glee. There was a moment when V. (one of the children) told Miss Biscuit, "He isn't the real Father Christmas. Father Christmas is fake." I stepped in, side-eyed little V. and said, "You seem awfully sure about things. Isn't it lovely to get a present from someone who thinks everyone deserves a gifts and each one is so thoughtfully picked out. What a pretty doll you have there." Then I hustled Miss Biscuit away from that potential crime scene. Miss Biscuit hasn't given up on Santa Claus yet and frankly children need all the little bits of magic in life before it turns into back aches, and tax forms. She loved her new whale shark toy.
We had our fill of fun, and went home to make macaroni and cheese.
