Our Santa is called Sinterklaas. He's Santa, the Catholic version. Actually, Santa is Sinterklaas, the infidel's version. He's coming next weekend, but the kids can't wait:
And I just had to join in:
Also, I have sunk to new lows when it comes to "cooking" "dinner." Have you ever heard of frozen mashed potatoes? I hadn't, but here they are (with butter and milk). I warmed them up
added frozen creamed spinach
and chopped up frankfurters.
Then I added more frankfurters. Then it exploded slightly. (I now know where bubble and squeak got the bubble part of its name.)
It tasted grrrreat.
I think I shall do penance tomorrow and make chowder.
Right - I have to go wrap a cute little bike now because my little girl is turning two in the morning! Which reminds me I forgot to bake a cake so she'll be the poor little mutt whose mother sent her to the creche with a shop-bought cake. I may as well write "neglected" all over her forehead.