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We spent the night in Zeeland, in the quaintest bed & breakfast I've ever been in.

We took the boys for a pizza in Middelharnis, the only guests in the restaurant, back to the B&B then grudgingly stayed up until midnight, watching a cabaret on TV, playing a (children's) board game, sipping Clairette de Die.
Kissing at midnight.
Son#3 spent the night in bed with me, stroking my face and randomly kissing me.
If you're not going to sleep, then it's not a bad state of wakefulness.
The husband slept in Son#3's bedstead, bless.
Inevitably, the boys were raring to go at 6 in the morning.

(Son#3 found the dummy that his sentimental mother had stashed in a drawer, and decided to use it again.  It's gone again, bless the husband and his forcefulness).
 
In the morning, a hatch opened and as if by magic, a wondrous breakfast appeared.
We ate too much.
For an entire year, we ate too damn much.

A short drive through the countryside, then Son#3 and I fell asleep in the car.

Now it's Thursday again, and Son#3 has been dropped off at daycare, and #1 and #2 are almost off to the movies this morning.
I'm not doing New Year's resolutions this year.
Bugger that.
Nothing much has changed desire-wise since 31 December 2013.

We just begin, and hope for the best.
Happy new year, dear reader.
May it treat you infinitely well.
Luck be on your side.

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