So the boiler broke (repeatedly), the washing machine froze up and flooded the kitchen, there was a visit to the minor injuries clinic – it had all the ingredients of a a classic Whittle family Christmas.
Actually, a lovely time is being had by all and let me assure you, I am not one of those people who talks about Christmas for weeks and then wakes up on December 26th and says, "Thank goodness that's all over!"
No friends, we've got at least a week of cheese eating, Bailey's drinking and Elf-watching left in us.
However, for those of you missing Flea's unique perspective on Christmas, I bring you my one and only festive post:
Seven Things Flea Said This Christmas:
Mummy when I make a wish it always just doesn’t come true. I was wishing to be a dog.
I was dreaming I had a sister and we slept in bunk beds. Also, I dreamed that you let me watch the X-Factor.
Mummy, why didn’t Father Christmas put anything in your stocking? Were you bad?
We’ve lived in this house since I was three. Seriously, when can we have a new house?
I like it when you dance. It looks like you’re fighting baddies.
I think I’m growing. My thumb hurts. Oh wait, I just bent it backwards.
Mummy, I like everything you are wearing today. Also, are you sharing those crisps?
