I love you very much Mummy, you give great squishy cuddles, chase me around the house and dance like a crazy person but, Mummy, can I give you my actual Christmas list? Not the one with exciting toys, adventure books and colourful arty bits on it, the one with things that I actually want?!
What I actually want is for you to let me throw the remote control around the room, I think the rattle that it now has is a wonderful addition and makes it even more exciting! I’d also like to pull the cat’s tail as much as I want, it’s just sooooo fluffy!
I want to close the door on my fingers (I’m really fed up of you telling me to be careful of my fingers, I get it, you don’t want me to, but I really don’t see the problem!) I want to carry your hairbrush around everywhere and hit everything in sight with it. I want to lean back against every hard surface possible and smash my head against it repeatedly without interruption.
I want to flick food on the cream walls without you squeaking at me. I want to eat pasta, ketchup, dairylea and jelly for every meal (this seems like a perfectly well rounded diet of carbs, diary and brightly coloured goodness to me). I want to play with the lid on the kitchen bin over and over again.
I would like to jump on all of the drain covers between the house and the car several times each time we go to the car. This clearly counts as part of my physical activity for the day and I would like to determine how many times I do this for each trip, without you tricking me and carrying me away.
And lastly Mummy, I’ve been really good and learnt to sign ‘please’ to ask you for things. But when I want the food that you are eating and I ask nicely, you still say ‘No’. You even say that I’ve asked beautifully but I can’t have any. I don’t really understand this, particularly when you eat those big bars of brown stuff. Your eyes glaze over and you look so happy, don’t you want me to be that happy too?!
So for Christmas this year Mummy, that’s all I really want. Don’t worry about the presents. I’d rather make a mess and get lots of bruises.
P.S. Any chance that you’d stop dressing me in silly fancy dress outfits at every possible opportunity?! I’m already getting scared about my 18th birthday party and the photos that you’ll drag out!