This year on Christmas Eve the perfect Christmas Day will start. Daddy will remember that it’s sleigh bells in the garden at bedtime. A tambourine sounds nothing like Santa’s sleigh.
I will be allowed out of bed every half hour to check the palapability of my stocking for evidence of a visit from the bloke in red.
We will get up at 5.30am. All of us. Whilst I don’t mind a bit of covert rummaging in a baggy sock by torchlight, there comes a point when I require the input of a delighted adult to validate my excitement.
We will open all our presents before breakfast. Actually, I don’t really care what anyone else does, as long as that wrapping paper is off my gifts within 30 seconds of my arrival at the Christmas tree.