You’ve watched so many reruns of Astérix on M6 on Christmas eve that you can now give a perfect rendition of “Le lion de Cléopatre” in the lion’s voice.
On Christmas eve, you put your slippers at the foot of the tree before going to bed in the hopes of finding chocolate “turds” in them in the morning.
You cannot even start to explain the disapointment that came with finding your slippers filled with Mon chéri.
You used to keep a stack of flyers from Leclerc, Géant, Auchan and JouéClub, making sure you circled very cleary what toys you’d like to see under the tree on Christmas Day.
Christmas never ended on the 26th of December. Instead it ended on January 6th, when you could finally take down the tree, the nativity scene, and, most importantly, eat large slices of galette des rois.
You knew that the neighbourhood independent baker had lovely galettes to sell, but you preferred the chocolate and pear ones from La Mie Câline.
There was always a Christmas lunch that lasted until 4 or 5pm, so there was never a Christmas dinner (but you still had room for a few chocolate “turds” later that evening).
New Year’s Eve was either filled with family and/or friends or le bêtisier de l’année [insert appropriate year] on EVERY. SINGLE. TV CHANNEL.
Your grandpa or grandma never missed the chance to let you know that, when they were little, the best presents they ever got were oranges and shoe polish. Guilt trip much?
There was always one person at the table to remind you that the foie gras you’re savouring is the result of an act of unbelivable cruelty.
New Year’s Day meant a visit to the grandparents’, several glasses of champagne, and le concert du Nouvel An as background music.
January 2nd included a trip to the bank to cash your étrennes.
You’ve been to Midnight Mass…at 9pm.
You have tried to make a lantern out of a mandarin orange every year since you’ve been allowed to handle matches, and you’ve succeeded every time!