Dear Santa / Father Christmas / Kris Kringle / Coca-Cola dude,
I know it’s been a while since I last wrote to you, and don’t worry, I won’t be asking for a new bike, or a Commodore 64 this time round. I’ve grown up a little since then.
The thing is, I’m not even sure why I’m writing this, as I’m not even sure you’re real. I got some pretty damning evidence when I was younger; I heard my Mum and Dad discussing (arguing) over whose Santa sack was whose in mine and my sister’s room one year. This was the Christmas after I had received a letter from you with stickers on the paper, which were surprisingly the same ones sold in the newsagent my Dad worked in.
And Nick, (can I call you Nick?), the physics seem a little skewed if I’m honest. Not only the whole flying around the Earth in one night malarkey, but also, how can someone that fat fit down a chimney? Seriously?!
Anyhew, I’m erring on the side of caution, and writing this on the off-chance that you exist. I mean, who else ate half the mince-pie, and drank half the milk I left out each year? Am I right?
The thing is, I’m a Mother now.
I’ve gone from being a can-not-get-to-sleep-i’m-so-excited kid, to a I-can-sleep-but-i’m-looking-forward-to-Xmas-day teenager to early thirties year old, to now a can-not-get-to-sleep-i’m-gonna-pee-where’s-my-Tena-lady Mum of a one year old.
Having a child really makes Christmas fun again, as you get to see everything that once excited you as a kid through another’s eyes. Your child’s eyes.
I can totes understand why you do the job you do Nick. Seeing the joy in a little one’s face as they see the Christmas lights going up around the place. Watching their eyes get larger as they take in all the sights, sounds, and smells of a Christmas Market. Getting ever more excited by the gifts that suddenly appear overnight.
It’s a magical time.
That’s why I’m writing really.
I’m worried that the magic is disappearing. That more and more, Christmas is about who got what, who spent the most, how many gifts did you get in total? Less and less it’s about spending time with family, and being thankful for what we have.
So, I’m going to ask you a favour. When E is old enough to write a letter to you, hopefully she’ll be polite and only ask for one or two gifts, but if she asks for more don’t feel obliged to get them all.
I want her to know that sometimes in life, you don’t get what you want, but that as her parents, her Dad and I will ensure she gets what she needs.
I want her to know that it’s okay to ask for things, and that being polite about it will help, but that not getting everything she wants is okay too.
I want her to be thankful for what she has, and understand that while some may have more, there are others who may very well have less, and that although life isn’t fair, she is loved, and that is worth so much more than the toy section in the Argos catalogue.
So Nick, squeeze yourself through my letterbox if you must, eat the mince-pie and drink the milk, but don’t think for one moment that you need to fill the space underneath the tree. It’s the space in E’s heart that I’ll be working on filling (that is very cheesy, but this Christmas is making me so emotional, so I hope I’m forgiven for going all gorgonzola on you).
Thanks for taking the time to read this. I know you’re silly busy.
Love Jem XX
PS. Seeing as I’m writing, I suppose I’ll make my Christmas request. If you’re able to fit Jensen Ackles in your sack that would be very much appreciated. 😉