The Elf on the Shelf

Boxing Day. Ah feck, don't you hate it?

I always have. I mean, what is the point? I don't mean to imply that I would rather everybody bugger off back to work, because that is ridiculous, but really, can we not impart some meaning to the frigging day? It's like having an extra Sunday in the week - and when Boxing Day falls on a Sunday and the following day is an ersatz-Boxing Day, well, bollocks, life is hardly worth living any more. 

I mean we're no longer a bunch of servants waiting, hands out, for our gifts from our lords and masters are we (except perhaps in England)? We don't wait to open our "boxes" till that day, do we? So what the effing hell is the meaning of today?

I pondered on this question while recovering from my Laphroaig-induced hangover this morning. Mrs. Ottawacker was quite insistent that I rouse myself and greet the day, but somehow, Bacchus wasn't willing. Instead I lay there and, demanding coffee in bed, thought about what the point of it all was.

(It's about this time that concerned friends might be tempted to call the Samaritans - but fear not. All is well in the Ottawacker mind.)

My concern is for Boxing Day. What is to be done? Philanthropy? Festivus? Beats me, mate - I haven't the foggiest. It just seems like a non-day. 

Anyway, apart from my existential musings, it wasn't a bad day. My hangover wore off, I snatched a snooze, and Ottawacker Jr. managed to get outside to play with his friends. Masked up, social distancing enforced through a window, games involving toy gun encouraged because they could stay apart. (We might be encouraging future gang warfare on the wild streets of Ottawa, but I can deal with that later.)

Then. of course, came the accident. The gunfight had moved to a backyard hockey rink (ice hockey, of course). And Ottawacker Jr., as unsteady on his beskated feet as his father, came a cropper, right into the stanchions of the rink. Ouch. Back he came, limping on both legs alternately, tears running down his beautiful face.

Ah! The lessons we learn when we try things new. I've no doubt he'll be out there tomorrow trying it again... which is the spirit he gets from his mother.