Letters to Santa

 

Photo by Jakob Owens on Unsplash

Dear Santa,

I’ve been a rather good boy this year, I think.

Last week I asked for cake before I had eaten all my food, and, of course, Mummy let me have it. I did have a bit of a meltdown but mummy reassured me I was still a good boy. I screamed and screamed the house down all while aunty Jay and uncle Eddie sat awkwardly in silence, not daring to encroach. Mummy kept saying things to me, though I wasn’t really listening, or rather couldn’t hear her over the sound of my own noise.

You’re just upset, Jimmy, it’s okay. Let it all out. Hush, darling, it’ll be okay. Mummy doesn’t want to give you cake now because you’ll get a tummy ache as you haven’t touched your quinoa yet! Be a good little boy, my prince, and eat some salmon. Then I’ll give you dessert. Just eat half of it. Oh no, Jimmy, we don’t say that word! Okay, a bite. Fine, will you promise to eat it tomorrow, darling? Mummy will be very upset if you don’t. Please don’t hit mummy, that’s not very nice! We don’t hit! Oh, again! Stop hitting mummy, darling. Here, have your dessert because I know you’re very upset right now and you’re going through so many emotions.

Then mummy gave me the cake.

Daddy sat in the corner not doing anything, of course, until he saw mummy ferociously dividing the cake between me and her so that there was only a sliver left for him. By that point I was really cross as my face was hot and swollen, and I couldn’t enjoy the dessert so daddy wolfed it all down. Mummy started shaking a little bit after that but didn’t say anything. She just went into the kitchen and I heard a loud crash! bang! Daddy was hoovering up the crumbs from his plate with his mouth, like a fish, and didn’t go to mummy, so I think it was okay.

Anyway, this year I want an iPad. I’m growing up fast and daddy’s phone screen is just too small for my fingers. All my older cousins have one already; Gemma got one just because she started university and she always says no when I ask to use it. I asked nicely, so that means I should really be allowed. Mummy said so.

From,

Jimmy (8)

Hullo Santa,

Just me. A recliner sofa would be great, you know for those lazy evenings where I’m resting my eyes. Also, I’m not sure if Allison has written to you yet, but I really would like to wish, on her behalf of course, for a new cake tin. She’s mentioned it recently and unfortunately there are just so many to pick from, I just can’t decide! If you could send one of those down for her that would be great, like the huge ones that make big cakes. Maybe something lacy for her to wear too, as it’s already been four months since she gave birth and she’s probably ready to stop wearing big t-shirts and joggers all the time.

Ta.

Johnny (38)


Hi Father Christmas,

How are you? These last couple of weeks must be so exhausting for you and the elves, I hope they’re doing alright.

I’m so fucking tired, Santa. Johnny keeps asking me things all the time. All the time. Lemon drizzle tonight, Allison? I’m feeling a ginger and marmalade, Allison. Allison, it’s been a while since you made that delicious white chocolate cake of yours. All while he sits on his arse, stuffing his fat face while his child runs around ruining my life like a fireball. Anna shat all down her back last night and I saw his eyelids flutter as if he was forcing them closed to pretend to be asleep. Of course, I had to stop mid-pump to sort her out.

I broke the cake tin because he wouldn’t have the faintest idea of where to buy another one. All he does is eat, sleep, and touch my leg after filling the bedroom with beer farts.

Please can I have a magnum for Christmas. Red, white, it’s no bother. And maybe a four-month coma. That would be nice.

Thanks very much,

Allison (36)


Dear Santa,

Please tell Aunty Jay to stop kissing my face. Daddy won’t tell her to stop. She smells like gammon and her ginormous fingers always sink into the soft spot on my head.

From,

Anna (4 months)*

*transcribed using elf magic


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