From what I can remember, most Christmas days were spent with my Mum. We'd get up at the crack of dawn and start the unwrapping fest. It was pretty much just go for it. We never opened one at a time while the others watched or took it in turns. We'd literally just tear the shit out of everything, screeching with joy at all the toys and books my Mum had slogged her guts out to afford. She watched on with glee and we'd smother her in kisses and thank you's (I got that bit right, right Mum?).
At my Dad's, it was a different affair. We'd take it in turns to open a present, it was very civilised. Not my cup of tea at all. But those were the rules and we played by them. Screeching with glee still but every ten minutes instead.
My husbands Christmases were the same, civilised. And every Christmas we've had together has been civilised (apart from the one where I was deathly hungover and could be found dozing under the tree). And every Christmas we've had with Lil has been quite civilised... Tim: One at a time, Lilian. SNORE.
Waking up to my dream kitchen last Christmas.
This year however, this year things are going to be different. This year we are doing it how I did it as a kid. She's old enough to understand shit these days. She gets excited and screams with delight. It's how she should be, it's how this Christmas is going to be. Full of screaming and squealing and tearing open paper like there's no tomorrow.
GO, GO, GO!
Civilised present unwrapping is for adults and let's be honest... there are no adults in this house.