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Perfection. I am giving up on it.

Right now many of us are in pursuit of the perfect Christmas, but does it even exist? Well, before you spend the next 30 days running after it with handfuls of cash, let me break it to you, it doesn’t.

There will be food, there will be drink, there will be fights over what’s on the TV or how long the relatives have now stayed and how I now need SPACE.

 

The house will not resemble an Ideal Homes photo shoot – because in their pictures I do not see an 11-month old baby bum-shuffling it’s way across to the Christmas tree, whilst dragging a soggy rusk across the carpet, then trying to put every bauble in it’s mouth.

Nor do I see the cat running up and down the tree before crapping in the corner of the lounge because it’s attacked the prawns in the kitchen.

Or how about your four year old having a meltdown because she wants her Elsa costume on at the exact moment ‘Let it go’ is played on Frozen for the third time that day?

So, no, this year I am not going for the perfect Christmas. I am also vowing to ditch the word perfect from my family’s vocabulary, as it just leads to disappointment.

Instead, I will try the best I can, and if that’s not good enough then stuff ’em (along with the turkey).

 

 

 

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