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A Mumma's Letter to Santa

A Mumma's Letter to Santa

Hi Santa, 

I know you are going to get asked for some weird and whacky shit this year. I don’t know how you put up with all these needy and wanty people year in and year out. It must be quite like being a mum, just not every day.

People always complain that they don’t know what to get me, and the problem is, I guess, that I don’t really want for anything that can be put under a tree…

So, since I keep hearing that you are indeed “coming to town” I’ve popped together a list of just a few modest requests I have for this Christmas giving season. In my mind, at least, they are largely reasonable, and given you do have a reputation for magic, I’m hoping between the two of us we can get something across the line.

In no particular order, for Christmas I would dearly love any or all of the following;

Mornings; I would just love, please, to on occasion experience mornings again as they were intended. Just for one day (bonus points for a weekday) I would like not to have to yell at someone to put their shoes on, to clean their teeth, or to GET IN THE CAR. NOW!!! I don’t want to find socks, nor soccer balls, or pump out toast like I’m running a hotel kitchen during spring break. I would like to sit down to a coffee and breakfast with my husband, maybe even have put some fancy work clothes on first, and slip off quietly into the day. Like a normal person.

To Dance; Oh how I loved to dance. I used to dance on bars, in heels. Without falling off. The freedom, they joy, the recklessness. The throwing your hands in the air and singing at the top of your lungs with your friends (while, thankfully, no one could hear you). I know much of this time would have seen me jumping wildly between your naughty and nice lists, but by God it was worth it! It was a riot. But riot in a fun way, not like the riots we have every night here at dinner time. So for Christmas, I’d like to dance. In a club. Not in flats, and not in my kitchen by myself.

Good old fashioned Sex; I almost can’t believe that I am saying this, but even I, master of the “sexcuse” wouldn’t mind some actual “normal people” woopie every now and again. Not the now famous parent sex though. Actual, real, take your time, non high alert sex. Romantic even. I would like not to have to do it with one eye on the job and one eye, both ears, and every bit of bedroom furniture we own on the door. The need to sprint to the finishing line like Asafa Powell is on our tails is both exhausting and abnormal. I’m sure you know how it goes with all those elves around!

I hope you can find it within your magic bag of tricks to help me out on any of the above. I can tell you now, if you found a way you’d have a brand new fanbase in all the mothers of the world if you know what I’m saying. Wink wink. More beer and biscuits for you...ho ho ho!!

Thank you Santa, I can’t wait until Christmas Day!! Xx.

P.S. World peace, and tolerance, kindness and understanding for all would also be hugely appreciated please and thank you. 

Killer Christmas Bingo!

Killer Christmas Bingo!

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Mummy Makes a Scene...