Yesterday was Boxing Day, but today is also Boxing Day. Although perhaps there is no such thing as Boxing Day. It depends on where you are in the world I suppose. I don’t think Boxing Day shares the same international reknown as Christmas Day. And my blog, insofar as it has a readership (which is not entirely certain in spite of an alleged number of followers) might well be read by an international audience. Perhaps I should try not to always write from a UK perspective. But I don’t have any other perspective to offer, so I’m not sure I can change in that regard. Whether you enjoy the 26th December in the guise of Boxing Day, St Stephens Day or just as ‘the day after Christmas’, I’m going to assume that you understand what I’m talking about.
In the UK we oft refer to the day after Christmas, the 26th December, as Boxing Day. But apparently that is only correct when the 26th December falls on a weekday. But yesterday was a Sunday, which means that today is officially Boxing Day and yesterday was not Boxing Day at all. But we all called yesterday Boxing Day and I think it’s now accepted UK wisdom that the 26th December is Boxing Day whatever day of the week it falls on. But I enjoy a little bit of pedantry every now and again and so I’m fully embracing the Boxing Dayness of today. Although I was not such a pedant as to turn up a day late for the Boxing Day lunch that my parents organised yesterday. So I went to that. Possibly in breach of the latest Covid guidance, but we were certainly within the boundaries of current legal restrictions and it was a far less extravagent affair than your average ‘work gathering’ in Downing Street.
Today I’m in my abode, recovering from a couple of days of excess, which is less than easy to achieve when my house is still full of Christmas treats. I’m trying to be sensible though and strike a balance between the main food groups. As I understand them, the main food groups are sugar, salt, fat, alcohol and caffeine and I have had plenty of them all.
I am also trying to strike a balance between good parenting and hypocrisy. I obviously don’t want to allow Little Proclaims unrestrained access to all the chocolates, but equally I have no intention of restraining myself. Indeed, hypocrisy and good parenting may actually be synonyms at this time of year.
Little Proclaims is sitting on the floor in front of me as I write this, playing with her recently aquired toys. She is playing nicely at the moment and all is calm, but the last 48 hours have been a roller coaster of emotions. This being her first Christmas in which she understood that it was Christmas, she was somewhat overwhelmed by the unwrapping of presents. Despite securing a collection of toys that have extended her territorial control over our home to the extent that I now appear to be relegated to a timeshare arrangement on my sofa with the cast of Paw Patrol, she was heard multiple times on Christmas Day screaming for more presents. I did feel a mild sense of pride that she made these demands in both French and English but otherwise I feared we had created a monster. However she appears to have overcome this bout of covetousness and now appears to be quite pleased with her not inconsiderable haul of presents.
I’m going to have to part her from her games in a moment though, as we’ll need to head out to the supermarket to buy some lunch. Despite the mountain of edible stuff currently overwhelming our home, there is very little of nutritional value and there is that nagging voice at the back of my head that keeps reminding me that a responsible parent would not give their three-year-old daughter cake as a main meal, however much said daughter might be inclined to accept such a repast.