My Letter to Father Christmas.

... Mitzi Gaynor flaunts her tree!

MM waiting for Father Christmas (Photo credit: x-ray delta one)

Dear Father Christmas,

I know I’m technically too old to write to you, but if you add the two numbers in my age together it makes nine, so please hear me out.

You noticed me last weekend. I was peeping anxiously through the frosted panes of your wooden cabin, and talking in hushed tones with my daughter, Little My. You were trying to reassure a little boy who was screaming uncontrollably on your knees and beating hell out of your shins with his heels. His eyes were wide with terror, whilst yours were watering from the pain. But you managed to force a smile, and his grandmother laughed and took photos with her telephone. I bet she has a coat made of Dalmatian puppies at home.

As I watched children wander in and out of your cabin, I wondered if Mother Christmas has to serve you a large whisky and several mince pies to get over your emotions when you kick off your boots at the end of each long day spent in that artificial winter wonderland of tinsel, spray snow and canned music. Although you must get lovely children coming to visit, I reckon you have a fair deal of spoilt brats too, and there must be times when you have an overriding desire to let a rabid Rudolf loose in the shopping centre on a seek-and-destroy mission.

I told Little My that it’s a good job you’re not on the same contract as Tinkerbell, or you’d be a gonner by now, with all the kids who have said they don’t believe in you. I met a six-year-old recently who had already cracked the Christmas Code. My cheerful enquiry about what she had ordered from you was met with incredulity, and disdain dripped off her like fat off a spit-roasted duck as she coolly enquired, “Didn’t you know that it’s the grown-ups who buy the presents?”

Like many other primary school children, she is gunning for a gift from the mean team that hangs out in the fruit bowl  – Blackberry, Orange and Apple. She did not appear the slightest bit sad that your warm, reassuring light had gone out in her young existence, and I was flummoxed; when Little My realised that you didn’t exist, hot tears of frustration had poured down her face as she whispered, “Can we rewind to yesterday, please?” I felt so badly for her, torn between wanting to grow up and retaining the comfort of childhood.

You interrupted my thoughts and smiled at us through your beard, beckoning graciously to my daughter with a white, glove-clad hand. Except it wasn’t Little My who was hesitating about coming to sit on your lap. It was me. And although Little My was encouraging me to go and talk to you, I decided I wouldn’t show her up (or break your legs).

The last time I sat on your lap and asked you for something, it was in 2009. (My age at that time was 41: adjusted age 4+1= 5.) You listened patiently, nodding your head, then gave me a piece of gingerbread. Your kind eyes sparkled as you said that I hadn’t reversed PF’s car into a street bench on purpose, and that the evil detector on the car had no doubt deliberately omitted to tell me that the bench was there, just to get me into trouble before Christmas. Then you let me down gently, telling me that your elves didn’t know how to make bumpers for cars, and that even if they did, it would be too big to fit down the chimney. But I felt better, and I had a sneaking feeling that you enjoyed having a big girl sitting on your lap for a change.

Gladys looked through the instructions for the part about ramming the Hoover down Robert's throat. (image  Jaes Vaughan, Flikr)

Gladys looked through the instructions for the part about ramming the Hoover down Robert’s throat. (photo credit: x-ray delta one)

You may have noticed that for the moment I have not asked you for anything: as a (fake) grown-up, I now have the liberty to buy my own playmobils. Apart from that, with age I have come to realise that the important things in life cannot be bought or made by elves and put into a Christmas stocking. They must be earned and maintained: love, laughter, trust and respect being just a few.

I do however have a few Christmas wishes. I don’t want any Domestic Goddess accessories, so feel free to give them to someone who will actually use them. However, If your old magic still works please could you sort out the following:

  • Health, happiness and serenity for everyone. Please bring good news and a peaceful, joyful break for those who have uninvited guests called Illness, Uncertainty or Sorrow for Christmas.
  • An intravenous drip of lucidity, humility and common sense for the leaders of nations who are slowly but surely stifling freedom of expression and reducing human rights for their citizens, and a well-aimed kick in the nether regions of any religious representatives, whatever their persuasion, who use their position to extol the virtues of hatred and preach intolerance under the guise of Godly goodness.
  • The long-term loan of a few elves during your low season (ten months) to do the housework, clean the car and go to the bottle bank. They would have full board and lodgings, and be able to play in the garden in the summer. That way you’ll have time to get your head around next year’s delivery schedule. It’s a win-win situation.

Thank you for reading, Father Christmas. A very Merry Christmas to you.

Love,

MM.

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72 thoughts on “My Letter to Father Christmas.

    • Cheers, Tric. Hope you’re cheering up a bit. I have a feeling that I have more chance of number 3 happening than number two, but who knows. Perhaps FC is better at fixing things than Jimmy Saville. Oops, wrong person to chose as an example there.

  1. Your Christmas wishes seconded. 🙂

    Father Christmas was ruined for my boys by the French bunch and their weird traditions on Christmas Eve. It was so obvious it was the adults scuttling round putting the odd present under the tree, and not FC that any illusions they might have had didn’t last long.

    In their parallel universe, you’d be having dinner then, between the cheese and the dessert courses the kids would be sent into another room and when they came back, hey presto all the pressies would be there, dropped by FC who had managed to pop by AT THAT MOMENT quite by chance. How credible is that? What self-respecting child is going to fall for that pack of baloney?

    I remember setting my dad a trap when I was about 8. I tied my stocking to my xylophone hehe…

    • Hi, Sarah! Love your trap for your dad, the poor bugger 🙂 I had the same problem as you when Bigfoot was old enough to understand Santa – PF’s family’s tradition was to open the gifts at midnight on the 24th. Then the grandkids turned up. MiL suggested that Bigfoot could open his in the morning. I said I’d leave my gifts too because I didn’t want him to think Santa just came for him. So Papounet ruled that gifts would be in the morning, and it has been “ainsi” ever since. I hate waking up on Christmas morning without pressies under the tree and excited kiddies, it’s a real damp squib.

  2. Another brilliant post 🙂 Please ask Father Christmas to send Mrs Sensible a new hoover. I am tired of trying to keep the suction bit stuck onto the long tube bit. I think I broke it a little when I was hunting mosquitoes during the summer.

    • Cheers, PN 🙂 Father Christmas does NOT give Hoovers to girls any more. I think Mrs Sensible will stick it in a very painful place if he does, and will riposte with a steam iron for you. I do like the image of you hunting mosquitoes with your hoover, though.

  3. Brilliant! I hadn’t thought of writing to Santa myself – what a great idea. Perhaps if enough of us write, we can get the elves gainful employment in the low season – although I imagine they might have quite a lot to do for the great man himself – mending the sleigh, repairing his suit (all that climbing up and down chimneys can’t be good for it), making toys etc etc – but perhaps we can offer work for those who want overtime? I’d happily find them plenty to do in the housework department at my house!

  4. I see you’ve trimmed your waistline! Your thighs are looking pretty good too. Love the crack about the guys in the fruit bowl. Is that an MM original? Brilliant Santa tale with lovely sobering thoughts at the end. I hope you get everything on your list. You are a good girl. You really are.

    • WWN, you’re a diamond. Sniff. My blogging buddy through thick and thin. I photoshopped the pic – all the top models do it, after all. Yup, it’s 100% MM, always copied but never equalled. That sounded vain- normal, I translated from the French 🙂 I hope I get what I wanted – I haven’t been good this year, but I’ve been careful. I reckon that counts.

      • If Father Christmas buys me a hoover he’ll be brushing his teeth through his bottom till next Christmas. I don’t use the one I’ve got, he might as well buy me a diamond solitaire. Fat chance. Although a Dyson costs as much… 🙂

      • No. Although he must be a pretty cool hubby, I’ve got enough on my plate with one. But I’d quite like PF to give me a new one via FC, because I lost my engagement ring this year and I feel so weird without it…

  5. I know i should laud your first two wishes, and i do. But the last one appeals to me the most, and is going on my wishlist too 🙂 Merry Christmas MM!

  6. Fabulous post! I’m very jealous – I want to sit on Santa’s lap and tell him I’ve been a good girl… Hope all your Christmas wishes come true 🙂

  7. Well done! You’ve asked for the perfect gifts–I hope we ALL get #1 and #2…and #3 sounds fine with me also! And I’m quite sure Father Christmas looks forward to your visits! I am smiling!

  8. I heartily second these requests, though I fear even Santa cannot accomplish Number 2, at least not where I live.

    I really love the pic of the woman and tree.

    • You’re right, Andra -I think that number three will happen before number txo does, unfortunately. I found the lady so proud beside her tree, and she’s pulled her shoulder strap down to flash a bit of shoulder at the camera. Do you think Santa was taking the photo? 😀

  9. Did Santa reply? I keep writing to the bugger, but nothing happens. I must be doing something wrong…

  10. Father Christmas would have to have a heart of stone not to grant those wishes, MM. Bags I one of those elves if you have one going spare. 🙂

  11. I love how you manage to convey such deep (and real, not fake, grownup) thoughts and emotions in a post that is seemingly so light-hearted. I hope Santa grants you all of your wishes. Happy Holidays! ❤

    • Hi, Katia! I’m glad you enjoyed it. Does being grown-up on the outside and a kiddy on the inside make me bipolar? Hmmm. I hope Santa does, too. I can pass on the elves, but number one is very important for me, and number two would be fab if he could do it, but I think I’ll get number three before that happens.
      You have a cool yule too -enjoy yourself and soak up that kiddy happiness, it’s priceless 🙂

  12. Great post as always! I’ve worked my way back to start my catch up where I last left off! I’ve missed you and your humour these past weeks… I could have done with reading some MM musings over the festive season to cheer me along a bit… had to make do with Mr Merlot instead! 😉 How did FC do with nudging PF and the engagement ring situation? And were any elves forthcoming? 🙂

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