Master A presented me with his Christmas Wish List over the weekend. It’s a ritual he has been performing since he was about three. He writes the list, the letter to Father Christmas, and then gives it to me, to give it the once over.
The thinking behind this is that he doesn’t want to come across “too greedy” so he gets me to inspect it before he puts it in an envelope and sends it off to the North Pole.
He’s quite shrewd because he’s worked out that what usually gets crossed off the list – “you can’t really expect Father Christmas to bring you all these presents now, can you?” – usually turns up two days after the 25th, as a birthday present. Oh, the joys of a December baby!
I cast my eye over his best, super neat writing (it is being sent to Father Christmas).
WowWee Chip Robot Dog ; Lego Star Wars Kylo Ren’s Command Shuttle; Nerf Mega Mastodon Blaster; Gooey Louie; Justin Bieber Purpose Tour Logo Hoodie. And topping this year’s list: An iPhone 7 (Mummy has an iPhone 4s).
A quick tot up of the items on the wish list puts the cost at a whopping £1,000. (How do parents with more than one child manage?) But what concerns me more than the eye-watering cost of the booty is that Master A has asked for a mobile phone.
He has made no mention of this desire at all in the past 12 months; and, in truth, I think nine is too young to have a phone.
I question him on why it has suddenly appeared on The List.
I’m expecting him to whine the usual (untruth): “I’m the only one in the class that doesn’t have one.”
What he tells me floors me. I won’t go into great detail but let’s just say there appears to have been an incident (unbeknown to me) while out in Westfield London with his father (my ex) where he got separated from him for around 15 minutes.
“I was a little scared. If I had a phone, Mummy, I could have called you and you could have come to rescue me.”
We’re wondering what Father Christmas is going to do.