This christmas was going to be different, thought Terri.
“You are going to look at it,” said Dad.
“Could you pass the cranberry jelly?” said Mum, keeping her eyes on her plate.
“You will. You’re all weak. Weak stock with wandering eyes,” said Dad.
Terri picked up the small ceramic pot and, without glancing up, handed it past Dad’s exposed butt, which was resting on the edge of the dinner table, to Mum who received it with thanks.
“Look at it. This year will be like all the others.”
And he was right. Terri’s Dad was always right.