Christmas eve eve

It is absolutely blowing a hoolie.  I'm sitting in the car while . Mr R drives us back from Carlisle.  Thank goodness he's driving as you can feel the car blow with each gust. 

It's been a super busy day , why do people go absolutely mental in the supermarkets when they're only closed for one day. No-where has raspberries.  

Xander thinks I deleted this photo.  He's wearing harps hat in the car . But I think he suits the sparkle. 

Anyway here's a poem I wrote two years ago. It came up on my fb memories 



Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house. 
Not a Wildling was stirring, 
They were as quiet as a mouse. 

Who am I kidding. 

They were all upstairs supposed to be in their bed
Hyper and loud for what lay ahead. 
Was Santa coming down the chimney
Or through the front door? 
Was he going to eat the cookie 
And sneak a few more. 

Would he drink the beer that was left
Or go and raid the fridge for some milk. 
What about the reindeers, is a carrot enough,
All these thoughts on the brain can be quite tough. 

So many questions they all kept on shouting
The anxiousness is bad 
On the autism spectrum. 
The not knowing, the excitement,
The change in the routine. 
All because Santa is someone unseen. 

Would Santa take the carrots and give them to Rudolph
Or would he sit on our new sofa's?
He better take his boot's off. 

But what about the morning And all the gifts left. 
The excitement is overwhelming,
The brains in distress. 

The parents they try and make things all relaxed 
There will be no expectations, no fuss to be had. 
He can tear open the gifts Or go and chill out upstairs. 
He can have his usual sandwich for lunch
We don't really care. 

For Christmas is special in so many ways
But also overwhelming to the autistic community. 
Try and relax, create joy and have fun
Don't change your routine
For the jolly red one.