Christmas evening came and vent. Couldn’t in good faith claim it was the best ever, even close. Spent the early part of the day in preparation of a visit from V’s mum and dad, younger brother and grandmother. The latter two spoilt the show: Henrik, the younger brother, was a constant display of why Autistic people should not be taken away from their known habitat to celebrate a high-tide they have no idea what is about, in a to them foreign place with strange people. His constant noises and all too frequent bouts of freaking out made it an evening high on tension and low on conversation. The grandmother came across as even worse, spilling over with comments ridiculously devoid of any basic empathy and human understanding. Add to this V’s mother, who upon arrival set to work – and work – and work – as per her usual being all over the place all at the same time, stressing out herself and everybody around, cooking and looking after Henrik and making sure Kirstine got her attention as well. Ah, fuck it, let me just declare it a sorry evening in which to be an adult. The little one had a blast, apart from spending time being afraid of Henrik when he threw his fits she had a good time, and Stig dressed up as Santa once again, much to her delight. So that part was grand, at least. Next year, though, changes must be made or I won’t be part of it. The grandmother has to go; she’s too old and cantankerous for these events, and nothing is added to the joy of X-mas on her account. The food will come from an outside kitchen, for herein lies the key to a stressless evening, when the only preparations will be the house-cleaning. And the house in question will be in Nyborg, where Henrik feels more at home than somewhere completely odd to him. Christmas is for the kids, that’s for sure, but there’s no shame in getting some joy of it as adults but that’s just too hard given the factors mentioned. Changes will have to be made, I at least won’t do one of these again. ~~~ Tomorrow Wednesday. Am hoping for a quiet day.