HOW many Christmas parties have you been to this year fellow parents? One? None? The latter for me. And New Year’s Eve means staying in, watching telly.
And the truth is, I really don’t mind. No, really.
All those years I spent pre-kids getting neurotic about parties, the number of invites, what to wear, spending ages getting ‘ready’, only to drink too much and look like my face had partially melted by the wee small hours.
Then the inevitable drunken rows (not necessarily me, but you’ll see them on every High Street), the bucket by the bed, the hangover that lasted until teatime (when you finally got up).
Nah, I don’t miss it.
But I am aware that in a couple of years it will be my elder sons out on the town, and there’s not a lot we can do about it but educate them, hope they don’t get into trouble, and be prepared to let them in at 4am when they’ve forgotten their keys.
To those of you who are already living with older teens, I wish you a peaceful New Year’s Eve . . .