What I want for Christmas

The dwarfs are revolting. I do mean having a revolution, not physically repellent. Well not always anyway.
Grumpy has revealed he may visit over Christmas to collect his present(s) ; and I expect in his case to empty the fridge and larder of all food and anything not actually labelled toxic, but maybe some of that too.
Dopey is still not speaking to me on account of me asking her about her sex site. I also told her off for taking my phone to use after she lost hers. This is absolutely intolerable for her. Do I not know that if she isn't on the phone at least twelve hours in every twenty four she will die. None of her friends will ever speak to her again and she will die. Homer and I have decided a new phone for Christmas instead of the lap top, but it will be a cheap one as it is now phone#9 or 10.
Happy is happy inside his little bubble. I wonder what goes on on planet happy but whatever it is keeps him content. There are rumblings, however, about an X box game about star wars. I feel an emergency last minute visit to over priced bits of plastic r us coming on. This is the only child that seems happy and well adjusted, partly due to his incomprehension of anything going on around him. I don't want to rock this boat. I must keep him happy, he gives good hug.
Psycho, his present list consisted of only two items. A motor bike and a snake. I know he is the reincarnation of some Hells Angel somewhere, I know it. A brief history of my special child. (As a teacher once commented to me dryly.. yes he's special...very special.) I took it as a compliment, well I had to, it was either that or cry. As a newborn I had to stop breast feeding after the midwife told me he was screaming so much that he was losing his voice, turned out he just has a very deep voice. At the age of three he took the seats out of the car, at four he dismantled the air conditioning. We have to warn tradesmen " Don't put your tools down " They don't believe us and then whoops he's dismantled their chain saw, or something. At four they asked him in child care how old he was. Forty-three. The scary thing was this increased year by year until very recently. He has definitely been here before, and he's come back to do something in particular. My role is to feed him until he's old enough to do it.
And me, well Homer asked me what I wanted for Christmas and all I could come up with was either some-one else's life, as long as it was better than mine, or a quick argument about why he was asking me that on Christmas eve.