Festive Fun with a Twist.
In 1998, Yoni made the big leap from being a self-employed ZZP’er (as they call it in Holland) to running his own company.
Sure, it started out as a non-profit foundation (Stichting), but suddenly he wasn’t flying solo anymore.
He had a whole team backing him up—Dorien, Rita, Pieter, Sander, Marcel, and Tjerd—each bringing their own passion and energy to the project.
The goal? To share Frank Natale’s work with the world and turn it into something sustainable.
But as any entrepreneur knows, collaboration is a mixed blessing. It’s like that old joke: a camel is a horse designed by a committee.
Every little decision had to be run by the entire crew, which could feel like herding cats—especially when those cats had jobs and busy lives of their own.
Still, this oddball team didn’t just become business partners—they became friends .
One of the highlights of this newfound camaraderie was the annual Christmas dinner, hosted by Pieter and his wife, Margret.
Their cozy home was the perfect setting, filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and kids running around.
Pieter and Margret had two children, while the rest of the gang—aside from us—were single and child-free.
Yoni, who usually avoided holiday festivities like the plague, actually agreed to come along.
Maybe it was the lure of the kids, or maybe the sense of community that came with it. Either way, he surprised me by embracing the whole shebang.
Dutch Christmas tradition added its own quirky charm to the night.
Gifts were exchanged in true Dutch style—handmade, accompanied by limericks or songs that had everyone howling with laughter.
The table groaned under the weight of delicious food and drinks, and the whole evening had that rare, magical warmth that made you feel like family—even when you technically weren’t.
Thom, our little whirlwind, was in heaven. She adored the older kids, even if they were four and seven years her senior.
They doted on her, and she soaked up every bit of attention like a sponge.
Once I saw her giggling and playing without a care, I could finally relax and let myself enjoy the evening too.
But just as I thought I could sit back and bask in the festive glow, I spotted my darling daughter making the rounds.
She was sipping the last sugary drops from everyone’s margarita glasses. I froze. Was my two-year-old drunk? Yep.
Apparently, the combination of melted ice, leftover tequila, and that irresistible sugared rim was just too much for her to resist.
A little wobbly, a lot giggly, and blissfully unaware, Thom had gotten herself tipsy on margarita dregs.
Parenting fail or Christmas story gold? You decide.
After that unexpected adventure, the holidays continued on a much safer, more sober note.
With a few days off work, Yoni and I finally had the chance to just be at home with Thom—playing, goofing around, and even tackling the long-overdue IKEA cabinet assembly that had been mocking us for months. Keren, my sister, popped by for a few days too, bringing even more warmth and love to our little household.
It was the kind of Christmas you dream about—family, friends, laughter, and just the right amount of chaos. A memory to hold onto when the world gets too serious.
