A Christmas Feast & The Aftermath

We've all been there before.  You know, trapped between bony ankles, secured as though by a harness.  Quite immovable.  

& eye level with knobby knees, & covered by a wooden canopy, complete with the clanking of forks overhead.  

& later, rotating his head back over a shoulder, he asks of me, with jeans in a heap on the tile, "is all the poop off my bottom?"

Yes.  Flushes & washes hands.

Then the thought: are we more scared of asking or of being asked?

This, a Messy Christmas.