What families argue about at Christmas …and how to avoid them (arguments not families)

Christmas is a time for families to come together and, by the end of the un-starry night, draw the conclusion that they shouldn’t be spending so much time together.

It’s not the individual members, or the festivity itself – rather, it’s just that the routine, the sitting too close for comfort, and some old wounds which haven’t yet healed, all come together to conspire how to put a nay in your sleigh. The choice, as with most things in life, is two-fold: fight or flight. If you fail, there’s always the next festive season.

Great expectations

The Christmas benchmark is set incredibly high. Nearly every popular portrayal shows happy families sitting together in a tastefully decorated room, enjoying the gifts they all wished for, and a dinner cooked to recipe book perfection. And all against the backdrop of a crackling fire, tinkling laughter and bubbles of champagne bursting with optimism.

Yet life is too real to ever guarantee a perfect Christmas. The truth is that you will only be sitting together for a maximum of five minutes, the room is not tastefully decorated (there just wasn’t time), and the turkey is so dry that it’s only good as fuel for the fire. And all against the backdrop of a roaring fire (someone left the oven on and the turkey has just burst into flames), drunken laughter and baubles breaking and bursting on the floor.

Solution: Spend Christmas at home, on your own.

The in-laws

Yes, the parents add to the stress levels. But it’s the in-laws that really turn your nose red. It’s just that they know it all – and tell you that they do every five seconds. Your mother-in-law will point out how to fold napkins properly, as if she’s having dinner at Downton Abbey. And your father-in-law will be very brutal in his criticism and declare that the only way to roast potatoes perfectly is, obviously, his way.

And that will all escalate into not-so-subtle hints that no, you weren’t the perfect choice for their son or daughter.

Solution: Book a holiday for two. Long-haul, two time-zones away. 

The Christmas jumper

Like most traditions, wearing a horribly knitted jumper with a reindeer emblazoned on the front, is stuck in musty time. And yet, you must wear it – preferably throughout the week and in pose for the hundreds of festive snaps (which ensures your embarrassment will be recorded for posterity, like a mosquito in amber).

Not wearing it is not an option – the jumper is threaded with such an emotional baggage (it is, invariably, a gift from a loved one) that without it, you might as well retire to Alaska (where the jumper will, indeed, serve a function).

Solution: There is no solution, but only consolation. It’s all about context after all. Christmas transforms tough turkey meat into wonderful fare, and a scary jumper into something huggable.

Presents imperfect

With children, the gifts are always not the ones they have been dreaming of for the past three months.

They will open the presents at 8am sharp and by 8:42am, they’re huddled in a corner, crying as if it’s the end of the world because their new toys are not what they originally wrote on their list.

The few parents whose children like their toys are not exactly lucky either – because they will spend most of the morning trying to get the toys to work.

Solution: It’s the batteries. Scavenge the ones from last year’s unwanted gifts.

Bored games

During any family gathering, someone will – at some point during the proceedings – come up with the brilliant idea of bringing out a board game. Yes, the intentions are good – board games will, in theory, bring you together in a sharing moment flavoured with goodness, companionship and the utter joy of belonging to the same family. In practice, though, you will end up arguing about whose turn it is to roll the dice – and this will open up old festering wounds.

Solution: It’s Monopoly. The money is not real. You will still need to work for a living.

Who will do the washing up?

The obvious answer to that question is whoever didn’t do any of the prep or cooking has to do the washing up. But that someone is sitting down on your armchair, complaining how tired he is.

The second obvious answer is that whoever ate most of the dinner – and who will obviously devour all the leftover sandwiches – has to wash up. But that someone is on your sofa, sleeping off his second and third helpings.

Solution: Roll up your sleeves.