Space Station

So if I do both of the little terror's bedtime you can wrap the last of the presents and maybe construct the Little Lady's Space Station?

The Good Lady attempted to run out of the room as she said this.

Halt!

I commanded.

Grudgingly, she stopped halfway through the door.

Yes, dear?

She smiled over her shoulder as if she had been caught scrubbing herself with a kitten.

What do you mean, construct the Space Station??

I barked, half in fear, half in horror that she might be serious.

The Good Lady put on the same expression that she often wore when she invited me to gallop naked up her gammon alley because she couldn't possibly get pregnant right now.

Oh, Daddy-Bear. It will be fine. It's not like one of those lego projects that take days to build. It says 90 minutes on the box.

With a giggle and a swirl, she swished away out of the door leaving me to my fate.

I made my way to the hall cupboard and dragged the sack of presents to be wrapped out of it and the Space Station. Inwardly, I quailed at the thought of the task ahead.

I wondered if I should have a beer or two whilst building the loathsome Playmobil thing which experience had taught me, usually had more in common with that funny box in the Hellraiser movies than a simple kid's toy that needed assembling.

My phone pinged. I had a quick look.

It was a message from the Good Lady.

And no bloody beer when you are building the Space Station!!

Bollocks.

Oh well. I hauled the stuff into the living room and checked the clock. Half-past seven. If I got stuck in now I could maybe be done for just after nine.

Minutes turned into hours.

Hours turned into days and days turned into months.

Before long time itself became meaningless as I plugged little bits of plastic together and opened a million plastic bags with identical pieces of plastic which were actually not identical.

Finally, as I hauled my long grey beard out of the way to plug the last piece of plastic something into the final plastic something, I heard a voice.

Hey, Daddy-Bear. How's it going?

I looked up. It was a woman. I felt something tingle in my nethers. A woman! It had been so long. Was she real? Had she come to empty my hulking sacks of Christmas cheer?

I opened my mouth and scratchily cleared my throat.

I... I think I've finished?

I showed the Space Station to the woman who I now recognised to be the Good Lady wife.

She advanced slowly a smile creeping across her face.

Wow, it's awesome. She will absolutely love it!

I nodded eagerly like an old dog having its chest rubbed.

Wobbling but smiling, I tried to stand, to allow her easier access for the emptying of my Christmas sacks. It had been a long and arduous task but I was ready for my reward.

Whoah, sparky. You wrapped the presents?

The Good Lady looked hawkishly at me.

I looked at the box behind me, full of presents for the wrapping.

Bollocks.