Mundesly

Wide-awake, I lay in the sticky sheets of my bed, listening to the deafening roars that first escaped my brother's sleeping form, and was then almost instantly followed by an identical rumble from dad.
            Silently sliding out from the bed, I tiptoed into the lounge/diner/kitchen to see mum sat on the sofa, a blank expression frozen onto her face. Shifting her gaze to meet mine, she shook her head, and I walked over to join her on the sofa. 
            We then devised a plan to pull out the sofa-bed and sleep on that together, which meant our last night was at least filled with muffled snores instead of deafening rumbles we had put up with all week.
            The next morning, me and my brother sat peeking out of the large, condensation-covered window, watching two bunnies cheerfully hop around the luscious green grass that covered the majority of the space between each chalet. As we heard a car engine jump to life, the bunnies scrambled back into the bushes, startled. 
            Turning away from the window, mum set down two of the most magnificent hot chocolates I had ever seen; whipped cream, marshmallows and chocolate sprinkles cascaded down the ceramic mug. This is what I loved about the holidays. Morning sun creeping through the blinds, family films playing on the TV, snuggled up in blankets with a hot chocolate, wondering what the day ahead held for us all.