Monday, 3 December 2012

Dear Santa...

So it's that time of year again ... no, NOT the season of goodwill to all men which, let's be honest, effectively lasts from 5pm on Christmas Eve until 3 o'clock on Christmas Day because there is a reason Boxing Day is called Boxing Day. And it's mostly because mother-in-laws have opinions on gravy that shouldn't be aired in public. *Tuts*

No, it's the time of the year when every mother in the land looks hopelessly at her offspring and wonders what to buy them for Christmas. *Sighs*

SOME of us resort to the age old tradition of making them write a letter to Santa and then really wish we hadn't. This year's crop of festive wish-list items from my own little treasures has done nothing but made me, well, boggle.


The Tween's list was, at least, predictable. An iPhone, an iPod, an iPad and anything else beginning with i because EVERYONE ELSE HAS GOT ONE MUM. An' a hamster. An' a dog. No, two dogs, because one dog would get lonely. And another cat because EVERYONE ELSE HAS GOT ONE MUM.

The TeenTwins lists are less ambitious but equally as exasperating. TeenTwin1 would like a remote control Batmobile, TeenTwin2 a 24" high Minnie Mouse soft toy.

No matter that the TeenTwins will be SEVENTEEN years old three days before Christmas and are in their first year of sitting A levels. Apparently a Batmobile and a Minnie Mouse are perfectly acceptable presents for two girls who have a special level of sneer if you so much as suggest they might not be totally grown up.

No matter too that TeenTwin1 has already purloined her brother's Batmobile for display purposes and TeenTwin2 has fifteen other Minnie Mouse soft toys. No, let's not worry about that.

*Worries*

And The Boy. All The Boy would like is a Diesel Shunter, but only because he wants to give it to his dad. Which is really cute OBVIOUSLY and all dead nice of him and that, but I have NO IDEA what a Diesel Shunter is or where to start looking for one. Well, it's a train thing obviously but you know. Trains. *Rolls eyes*

So, basically, THIS Christmas the children are going to get what I think they need rather than what they want. And yeah, I'm sorry about that. Not.

*Locks Santa in the cellar*



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