I have been asking Daddy to help me write a letter to Santa for a few days now. He is being quite evasive. When I ask if I can write a letter to Santa, Daddy always asks “what are you going to ask Santa to give you this time?” I’m not sure why he asks this, because I always say the same thing: a playhouse. The first time I asked Daddy for a playhouse he grunted, and then he went and looked on the computer for a while, and then he came back and asked me if there was anything else I wanted.
We went through this last year. I wrote a letter to Santa asking for a laptop, and Santa wrote back and said he wasn’t sure about the laptop, but perhaps I would like a surprise. A surprise? Why would I want a surprise when I could have a laptop? Mummy will be at work today, and I will have the whole day to ask Daddy about the letter to Santa, so I expect we will be writing it soon.
Breakfast was good this morning. I had Weetbix, Cornflakes, Ricies and peaches all mixed together, and Daddy let me put the peaches in the bowl even though I usually drip juice all over the bench. For a while he tried to stop me getting my own peaches, but after a few times of me screaming, and smacking his bottom, and refusing to laugh at his jokes he gave in and let me do it again.
After breakfast Mummy does my hair. I think that brushing my hair must make Mummy angry because she always ends up shouting about me moving my head, but she’s the one yanking on my hair with a brush in the first place. “Are you trying to make me late for work?” I think she should get up a bit earlier if she wants to be on time for work. I might tell her this one day, but maybe not while she is brushing my hair.
After we dropped Mummy off at work, and Rosamund at creche, Daddy and I went for a drive to Daddy’s work. None of Daddy’s students were there. Last time we went there were lots of girls there wearing the same clothes who kept called Daddy, Mister. I asked Daddy why they called him Mister and he said “that’s what you call teachers.” Which isn’t true, because I call my teacher by her first name, so I think Daddy must be lying. Probably Daddy isn’t a teacher at all because most of the time when I ask him questions he says “I don’t know.” This would be annoying if you were a student in his class.
I asked Daddy about the Santa letter a few more times at school.
I must find out what Mister really means. I asked Daddy, but he said it’s what you call a man, but I said that I don’t call him Mister, and he said that that was because he was my Daddy, but I said I don’t call any men Mister, and he said it’s something you say to men who are important, but I said that Daddy wasn’t important so he must be wrong, and he laughed. After a while I asked about the Santa letter again, and then if you can call women Mister. He said they were called Miss. I think he was joking.
On the way home we were stuck at the lights and I began to count like I had heard Mummy counting the other day – “one Mrs Pippi, two Mrs Pippi, three Mrs Pippi” – and Daddy began laughing again, and I asked why and I saw him think for a little bit, and then say “because I’m happy.” If Daddy is happy why does he start whispering bad words everytime he goes for a drive? Just before he had been using bad words about a van in front of us. Sometimes I try and join in, but he tells me off, and gets cross sounding, like the time when I spent the day saying “what the huck!” and everytime I did it he glared at me and told me to stop (well, everytime except the first time when he laughed and Mummy told him off).
At home I asked about the Santa letter again and Daddy got angry and said some things about bloody letters and bloody Christmas so I think he must have thought I was asking for a plaster. Anyway, after he had spent some time sulking in the laundry he came out and said we could write my letter to Santa as long as I asked for a surprise. I had already figured out what I was going to do so I said ok. When we wrote the letter I think Daddy was quite surprised.
I’m looking forward to opening Daddy’s presents at Christmas.