Where’s my Christmas hat?

It was Christmas Day at the Kennedy household, where everything was running exactly on schedule –
30 minutes late – with a better than even chance that someone would cry before noon.

The morning started peacefully. Dad tried to film everything but kept missing the moments because he couldn’t figure out how to switch the camera from selfie mode.

Meanwhile, Grandma was examining her gift—an electronic picture frame. She poked it twice, frowned, and asked, “Does it come with a manual?”

Mum said, “Yes, Grandma. The entire internet is the manual.”

Grandma muttered, “Well, a fat lot of good that will do me!”

By lunchtime, the cousins began arriving, each one bringing a dish that allegedly followed a recipe.

Aunty Sue marched in triumphantly with a casserole the colour of a fire danger warning.
“I made it from scratch!” she proudly announced.

Uncle Kev whispered to Dad, “It looks like scratch won the fight.”

Then came Cousin Michael, who insisted on showing everyone his brand-new drone.
Within seven minutes, the drone had cut the top off the Christmas tree shredding the star while Grandma yelled, “Turn off that flying Hills Hoist before it knocks off my wig!”

Finally, it was time for the family meal. Mum tried to make everyone hold hands for a blessing and say something they were grateful for. There was immediate bedlam.

Dad said in a dig to Aunty Sue, “Well, I’m grateful the smoke alarm didn’t go off this year.”

Grandma said, “Give it time.”

With the casserole on the table making a faint bubbling noise, Aunty Sue said, “I’m grateful you all tasted my casserole.”

While the children screamed in unison, “We didn’t!”, the cat was poised on the piano stool nearby eyeing the casserole with hungry eyes.

Halfway through lunch, the biggest mystery of the day occurred: The Christmas Cracker Conspiracy. Every bonbon had a small paper hat inside and a joke —except Dad’s. Dad opened his cracker and to his utmost annoyance found nothing.

Mum said, “It’s okay, dear. It’s just a hat.”

Dad said with a frown, “It’s not the hat. It’s the principle.”

Grandma chimed in, “In this family you’re lucky the cracker didn’t explode.”

After dessert – which was 80% sugar and 20% regret – the family sat down for their traditional board game of “Monopoly: Christmas Edition,” also known as ‘Emotional Warfare with Festive Lighting’.

Within twenty minutes, Aunty Sue accused Cousin Michael of cheating, Uncle Kev mortgaged half of Greenland, Dad went bankrupt twice and mum threatened to cancel Christmas 2026.

By the end of the night, everyone was laughing, appetites satisfied, slightly traumatised, and already forgetting who started what argument.

As they left, Grandma sighed contentedly and said, “Well, nobody lost a limb, the house is still standing, the cat is alive and Aunty Sue didn’t set the kitchen on fire this time.”

Mum smiled. “You know what that means?”

Dad nodded. “The perfect family Christmas.”