It wasn’t long before I broke the remote control car and my promise to be careful with it.
My father was cross and half-asleep.
Mum looked fed up and out of the window.
My parents weren’t fans of Christmas or in love anymore.
Dad drove us to Gran’s house and I him up the wall with incessant “are we there yet?” questioning.
I opened more presents and they a can of worms in the kitchen with their conversation.
We left, as Mum would Dad only weeks later.