Another abuse-free Christmas has come and gone, and honestly?

It was completely ordinary.

Messy. Loud. Funny. Chocolate everywhere. Wrapping paper resembling a minor crime scene. Films half-watched, half-quoted. Pyjamas worn well past their dignity threshold. Horse boxes. Driving lessons. Laughter at the wrong moments. The good stuff.

No miserable faces hovering like rain clouds.

No forced, timed phone calls delivered with the emotional warmth of a parking fine.

No Christmas cards containing the same recycled, predictive-text message sent to everyone since 1998.

No complaints.

No dramatic “I’m not well” performances requiring an audience.

No sighing about money being wasted on “frivolous” presents — especially the ones children actually enjoy.

No tallying of costs, effort, or who supposedly “owes” whom.

Instead, there was real love. Real family. Real noise.

The kind of day where nothing is staged and nobody is pretending. Where joy doesn’t need to be managed, scheduled, or approved. Where laughter just… happens. Where people are allowed to be tired without being accused, happy without being punished, and silly without being shamed.

It wasn’t perfect.

It was better.

Because perfection is fake.

This was real.

No pretenders. No performances. No emotional invoices to pay later.

Just an ordinary Christmas — and that, it turns out, is extraordinary.

Here’s to the messy days.

The funny ones.

The love that doesn’t need an explanation.

And here’s to never going back. 🎄✨