It's 1am, it's Christmas day.
Molly's asleep upstairs and Santa has been. Although based on previous years Santa may wait a while before disturbing her slumbers with a stocking of goodies.
Earlier tonight she did the Santa thing - and it looked like this - including a gin and tonic which is all gin and very little tonic. She's possibly decided to test the whole Santa thing by getting him really, really drunk and hoping he'll be passed out by the tree in the morning.
Does she still believe? Is she in that strange halfway place where she sort of knows the truth but doesn't want to actually admit it, just in case? Or maybe, just maybe, she's just going along with it because she's lovely and wants her poor deluded parents to have a great Christmas?
Whatever the reason, it doesn't really matter. It's been a wonderful Christmas Eve. Just like Kipper says in Kipper's Christmas Eve (something I think we'll still read on Christmas Eve when she's come back for Christmas from Uni - I can hope. I really can. Can't I?):
Christmas Eve is the best bit.
Here's our Christmas Eve in pictures:
Merry Christmas one and all.