We've been asking that question since 1984, and we still haven't had an answer. Perhaps they are better off not knowing; perhaps they don't know how lucky they are.
The rest of us get sucked into a maelstrom of frenzied madness and anxiety overload.
Still, there's no denying that Christmas has a special magic all its own.
It comes when you start to feel queasy after that second helping of Xmas pud, or when you've spent half an hour trying to find a parking space close to the Boxing Day sales. (Three-hour maximum at Whanganui's Trafalgar Square carpark yesterday — is that a first?).
Christmas comes but once a year — and you have to take part.
It's like being at a family wedding reception when some half-drunk, crazed relative tries to drag you on to the dance floor.
You can't really say 'No'; you can't be the spoilsport, the party pooper — even though every sinew in your body is screaming 'Get me out of here!'.
It's all a game and you have to be a good sport, pull on some forced jollity and accept your pummelling with a wistful smile on your face.
For me, the big challenge was cooking my first ever Christmas half-ham.
I prepared by seeking advice from the more culinary literate (three-and-a-half hours at 150 degrees; baste regularly) and, lo and behold — a Christmas miracle — it came out quite well.
The sausages were a bit burnt; the vegetables not that great and only two of the three teenagers in the house bothered to turn up, but I'm counting it a victory.
So the only issue now is: Is it too early to return the dodgy prezzies, or should I re-wrap them for someone's upcoming birthday?
... And are there any cheap flights to Africa next December?
