A letter to Father Christmas

Nina Austen - 22 Nov 17

Alright there Father Christmas!

My name is Sonny and I am 5 years old. Well, nearly 5 years old. Mummy says I will be 5 just after Christmas which must mean that you’re 4 too, and I’ll be 5 just after you. That’ll be fun. Wanna share a soft play party? We can go halfsies on the party bags and sausage rolls. Just a thought… I’ll leave it with you.

I know you’re pretty busy preparing, making and delivering toys to EVERY boy and girl in the world over the festive season – and of course I’ve asked Mummy how this is possible. Don’t worry, she told me your secret. Time travel must be awesome. But anyway, I wanted to write this letter to make sure I get the things I really want this year.

Somehow some pretty boring books and a fancy shirt worked their way into my sack of presents last year. I’m sorry to say, they did not go down well. I got the red mist. So this year, I’ve asked Mummy to write down EXACTLY what I would like, to avoid any confusion or mix up’s. I don’t care if the fancy shirt was Rocha John Rocha – if it’s not a superhero costume, I’m not gonna wear it.

Before I continue with my realistic and absolutely achievable wish list of presents, I want to address this ‘nice and naughty list’ rumour. Word on the playground is that if you’re naughty, you’d be lucky to get an easy peeler and a jumbo colouring book from Wilko’s.

So let me assure you Father Christmas, I have been pretty good this year. In fact sod the modesty, I’ve been brilliant. I don’t want to brag, but not only have I started school with little fuss and nonsense, but I have also made 4,369 inventions all out of Lego. Some of these masterpieces should be in a freaking museum.

I have also been super nice to Bessie, which all things considered is definitely grounds for a spot on the nice list. Bessie can be a bit troublesome. She’s always telling on me, and she does like to make me be the baby, or the doggy, or the piggy. I don’t really want to crawl around on all fours after a long day at school but I indulge her for a quiet life. And I do love her, with her bonkers hissy fits and obsession with vet TV programmes. I think one day we will be great mates. As long as she stops telling on me.

Now we’ve established that I’m on the right list (Sonny = NICE) here is the list of presents I would like. These are in no particular order, but if I could please have them all, that would be great.

1. A go in a real space rocket. Ideally, the rocket will go to Button Moon but if not it can go to Mars or Myanus (why is Mummy laughing? It’s called Myanus isn’t it?).
2. Some serious face time with Captain America. Not Mummy’s phone Facetime, real face time. I want to know why he doesn’t wear jeans and if I can have a turn with his shield. Also, where is his Mummy? Does she know he wears a mask all the time? Even to bed? Crazy.
3. A magic set, not like the two I’ve already got – a new one with ALL the pieces. With a real top hat. And a real white bunny. That talks. And has a sword. But not a sharp one. One made from play-doh.
4. A holiday to the rainforests of Sumatra, Indonesia. I saw it on Go Jetters and it looks wicked cool. Mummy says can this be all inclusive please.
5. A Paw Patrol lookout tower with all the pups. I know this is expensive if you buy it from the shops as Mummy says (and I’m quoting) it’s a rip-off, but you make everything from scratch so it’s no trubs for you and the elves, right?
6. A dog that poops itself. A real one. Mummy will clean up the poop. She’s pretty good at that, Bessie and I have given her years of training.

See! Totally realistic. And only 6 things. I don’t want to push it.

As Mummy is helping me to write this letter, she wants to include special requests for her presents. Apparently, she would like Jennifer Lopez’s body and some earrings from Monica Vinander. She would also like Daddy to pick up his clothes and put them in the washing basket ‘once in a blue moon.’ She’s talking nonsense, everyone know’s the moon is white and made of cheese, but she’s OK so if you could please sort these things out for her, that would be great.

Thank you for reading my letter Father Christmas. You’ve got my address and I’m in the room on the right. I’ll leave out some reindeer food in the hallway – as Mummy says it’s fine for magic reindeers but not for cats. Shame as I would LOVE to see the neighbours cat fly. I’ll leave you a Heston mince pie if Daddy hasn’t eaten them all. And I’ll definitely be asleep. I promise. 😉

Thanks again. Don’t forget about the rocket.

Love from Sonny. Age 4 years 10 months.

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Nina Austen

Gaa Gaa Land is a collection of ramblings from a stay at home mum of two. Although said ramblings might veer into the serious from time to time, this blog is largely satire. GGL uses humour, irony and exaggeration to amplify this crazy parenting ride, but everything is from real life. It’s all true. Even the embarrassing bits. N is in her mid late thirties and enjoys writing, F1, early 2000’s UK Gladiators, picking play doh out of her hair, cooking, Game of Thrones, stationary, innuendo and swearing. She loves her kids, husband, friends, the Dalai Lama, Bjork and is partial to a Cliff Richard calendar (classic examples of brilliance – 1996 and 2010). She also thinks it’s weird writing in the third person.

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