Christmas Eve
Princess: Can I have a sweetie?
Me: Sweetheart, you’ve had loads of sweeties since we’ve got home, so I think that today we’ll have a detox.
Mr. Waffle (anxiously): Does this mean that we have to squirt ginseng up her bottom.
Christmas morning
The Princess goes into the room (obviously dark, it’s still the middle of the night) lit only by Christmas tree lights and looks at all the presents under the tree. Before touching a present she runs anxiously to the fireplace and stares in awe at the empty milk glass, the apple core and the few biscuit crumbs left on Santa’s plate.
Christmas afternoon
The publishing exec prepares for the annual influx of her relatives for drinks. She is wearing very high heels and a very daring baby doll dress. It’s glamourous but, you know, daring. I look at her dubiously. “Oh” she says airily “I want to give them something to talk about in the car on the way home”.
Later Christmas afternoon
Mr. Waffle’s cousin upstages all other cousins by mincing up to an elderly aunty and going to kiss her on the cheek. He pulls back in alarm while surreptitiously wiping his mouth and says “Gosh, aunty, I was actually going for your cheek there”.