We were unloading the car on Christmas Day after a decadent celebration with family when I heard my son ask why the front door was open?
Obviously, everyone was very quick to deny any knowledge or responsibility.
It took me back to growing up, where we didn’t have keys for any of the doors into the house. I think you could ‘lock’ them internally but it only briefly slowed down an invader (normally a sibling) because you could just lift the door in the frame to jimmy it open.
We did have keys for the car and tractors, which were stored safely… in the ignition.
That might have been ok in the middle of nowhere down south in New Zealand, where it was a big event for another car to be on our road, but it’s not the way things work in London.
So it was with a lot of trepidation that we looked around.
Stepping back through our departure, one of the kids admitted they may not have checked the door closed after they ran in for a last minute item.
While the door could have been partly open for hours, nothing had stirred in the house (although I can’t confirm about the mouse).
So while I may have been on the cynical side of Christmasteria, I definitely found the joy. For the cynics amongst you, it had nothing to do with the extensive lecture the kids then received…
Tough Mother 