We expect too much at Christmas. It's got to be magical. It's got to go right. Feasting. Fun. The perfect present. All that anticipation. Take it easy. Love's the thing. The rest is tinsel.

Bears being sent through the mail should never be squashed up to make them fit. It gives them indigestion.

Dads don't need to be tall and broad-shouldered and clever. Love makes them so.

We shared. Parents. Home. Pets. Celebrations. Catastrophes. Secrets. And the threads of our experience became so interwoven that we are linked. I can never be utterly lonely, knowing you share the planet.

Grandad has a long and earnest conversation with his grandchild. He says, you are noisy and wiggly and will be sent back if you don't pull herself together....The baby smiles complacently. She has him exactly where she wants him.

An older sister is a friend and defender - a listener, conspirator, a counsellor and a sharer of delights. And sorrows too.

Horses lend us the wings we lack.