CHRISTMAS MORNING:ON CHRISTMAS morning, Mammy and Daddy would like to be woken at about 9am. Some chance.
They will instead be subjected to an orchestrated pester campaign that will begin some time around 5am, organised in shifts by the kids, and end only when their demands for access to downstairs are met.
Those parents who are happy to imagine the look of innocent delight on their children's faces rather than experience it at first-hand will simply let them at it while they stay put; perhaps ordering the eldest to take a picture or a bit of video on the phone.
Those who don't want to miss a thing will be with their kids for the great moment when they see what Santa has brought them, although they'll watch the whole thing through the camera screen as they take a picture or a clip of video on the phone.
The morning will then be played out against a cacophony of noises: the tinny whirr of toy robots; the gurgle of talking dolls; the crash of a child cycling directly into an antique writing desk; the low groan of recognition from an adult who remembers why he said that he'd never again be hungover on Christmas morning.
By early in the morning, the sitting room should resemble a recycling centre, with crumpled paper, discarded boxes, bits of plastic, electronics, batteries, books, clothes - all accompanied by an adult trying to sort through it all to see what's worth keeping and what's not.
After that, it's time to try to organise the troops for the day ahead. Mother will have had her outfit, and the kids' outfits, picked out several weeks ago. Dad, though, will be found standing paralysed in front of the wardrobe wondering just what balance of smart-casual he should strike.
Then it will be time for breakfast, which in many houses consists of a fry-up on a scale that would be considered a once-in-a-lifetime event in most other countries.
It is the beginning of what is not so much a sequence of separate meals, but a multi-course feast that takes place over the course of the day and which is broken only by rest breaks and opportunities to gulp down some air rather than food.
It's a rare occasion for the family to sit together for a meal, although this puts great pressure on the kitchen. It means that the fry comes in waves, the last of the sausages arriving as much as half an hour after the first servings of beans.
It also means that the entire family eats breakfast in a haze of fatty smoke and that, after all those baths, all that scrubbing up, all the brand new clothes, they will head off to Mass collectively smelling of bacon.
