Okay, so I promised a post about Caleb’s first Christmas.
Um, well, the typical stuff you’d expect from a 9-month-old happened. He liked the paper and the boxes better than what was in them. He climbed onto one of the packages and fell off. Tried to eat the wrapping paper off of anything. Pulled the Christmas tree over on himself once.
We stayed home on Christmas Eve and had our own little thing, with over-roasted turkey and mashed potatoes and corn and I might’ve put some other veggies on, but I can’t remember. Then we opened the presents kind of early-ish, for two reasons: one, because I figured Caleb would be getting tired before too long, and two, because when I was a kid, I hated having to wait for it.
Christmas morning we left for Nan’s House (aka Darrin’s mum’s house). And Caleb opened more presents, and tried to eat the paper, and nearly fell off the box he climbed onto. And kept dropping his new bowl & spoon onto the tiled floor. That was a deafening noise. He loved it.
And Mum & Dad ate too much, and then Dad & Tyron & Uncle Craig played Quake, and Caleb took a nap on Mum at the other end of the house. And he had a bath in Nan’s big bathtub, and loved splashing around, standing up against the side, sitting down again *splash*. And then (eventually) went to bed.
Boxing Day morning, we all got up, had some breakfast, sat around chatting, Caleb played with toys, Craig & Jodi & Tyron left for home, Caleb took a nap, he woke up, then we came home via Greenock so Dad could look at some roadworks.
The end (ish).