St Nicholas arrived in our silly village today, and it was the same St Nicholas who fell off his white horse last year, utterly inebriated.
He didn't sound much better today, slurring his words (but then again, it might just be local dialect?)
He has the large splotchy nose of older men who drink too much.
Son#3 and I went, he got free ginger biscuits, ran around and through the marching band and then we went home again when my fingers started freezing.
Look at his long legs!
St Nicholas gets carted around in a buggy now.
It's quite like the pope, haha.
Son#1 went for a sleep-over at another boy's house, and spilled hot tea over his legs.
Not too much damage, luckily.
Louise spent the day sleeping on the couch, and will probably keep us awake all night with her mewling in the kitchen, where she has been sequestered.
She's such a tiny little thing that she fits through the spindles of the stair gate.
And I don't want to lose sleep, thankyouverymuch.
I have Son#2 for that.