There was a slight mix-up on Christmas morning. I can’t understand how it happened. A couple of Santa’s presents were wrong.
My daughter has a theory: she thinks The Big Man “went to Tesco and didn’t write it down right on his shopping list”.
Luckily, it didn’t upset her. A teenager with Prader-Willi Syndrome can magnify small, unexpected problems into huge, overwhelming ones, but in this case this didn’t happen.
She’s just written this letter to Mr Claus. And it’s pretty reasonable, although I do detect an undercurrent of passive aggressive disapproval.
Dear Santa
Thank you for my Tom[’s] Midnight Garden book and thank you for my Tom[’s] Midnight Garden DVD, but you makermishtake [sic] because Santa I wanted Goodnight Mr Tom book and Goodnight Mr Tom DVD because that [is] what I wanted for Christmas. But it don’t matter Santa because I buy it with Tim’s money and I like Tom’s Midnight Garden anyway.
Love from Josie xx
For some reason, when reading this, I feel as though it has an unwritten ending of:
“P.S. So stick that up your chimney, you stupid bastard.” But maybe that’s just me.
The sound of The Tweenies' Christmas Album is blasting out through our house. My daughter is approximating the tunes and jigging about in a festive manner.
At this time of year she normally has an attack of the collywobbles, sparked by the nagging thought that perhaps she hasn’t been good enough to make Santa’s Nice List.
I was convinced the levels of worry would reach supersonic levels this December after recent displays of unprecedented boundary-testing. The triple whammy of teenage hormones, emotional immaturity, and a stubborn streak a mile wide, have seen a late surge of crosses in the Naughty Column. When was she going to have a contrition meltdown?
The answer came the other day. She buried her head in a notebook and began to write. An hour later she presented me with a two page Apology To End All Apologies.
“We’d better get this to Father Christmas,” she told me solemnly. “Quickly.”
Dear Santa,
I do apologise about my behaviour last week. I am really sorry about reading at midnight and later. I am really sorry about not listen to my Mum and staying awake all night. I was really upset because dad hit my bed but not me, Santa.* I do not have enough space on the page and I would like to tell you more about my behaviour, Santa...
...I am really sorry for getting up for a book at midnight to put in my schoolbag and my Mum and Dad was mad at me. And Dad chucked my Princess Magazine in my bag. I am really sorry about not listen to the teachers at school and Mum and Dad was absolutely livid indeed at me.* I am really sorry about my silly behaviour, Santa, and very sorry about sillying behaviour at school.
lots of love from J.
I am really sorry about being naughty girl before Christmas. Am I on the nice list for Christmas? Will you tell me I am a good girl for Christmas on the video Mum has got on the computer like last year?
lots of love from J again.
I am really sorry for doing.
lots of love from J.
xxx
xxx
xxx
*Her Dad did indeed smack his hand down on her bed in exasperation at one point during the Night Of The Long Books; Social Services please note the BUT NOT ME bit.
*I am now adopting ‘absolutely livid indeed’ as my phrase of choice to indicate all levels of irritation or anger.
So, what do you think? My conclusion is that she should be completely forgiven for any misdemeanours. If you don’t think this is the fulsomest of fulsome apologies, then you will be forcibly fed cold Brussels sprouts until you agree.
Video is Johnny Cash - Folsom Prison Blues. Yes, I know it's a stretch, but I had to make up for the following tune...
Song is The Tweenies - Santa Claus Is Coming To Town Related Posts: Moody Unhinged
