Dear Father Christmas,
I have been totally awesome this year, and as such, I’ve made my list pretty big as I know you’ll want to both reward and make an example of me. Naturally.
Some are gifts. Some are requests. I hope we have an understanding.
For Christmas I would like:
Mummy’s wallet and keys.
The Sky remote.
Some new storybooks. And handcuffs. And a chain. Daddy can stop reading when ‘I’ say we’re finished.
A spare Daddy. (for when the other one goes to work/passes out through exhaustion)
My own cat flap.
Peppa Pig. (the real one)
For all my toys to play the ‘island beat’ song from my walker.
To no longer be clothed. No matter how much I scream in mummy’s face as she’s attempting to dress me, she still insists, so I’m looking to you to make this happen big man.
A selection of envelopes.
A shaky egg.
To live at soft play. Please also provide my bath, some rice cakes and Sophie the Giraffe.
Please have Iggle Piggle shot and the body brought to me. He’s getting right on my tits.
All the doors and stair gates in my house destroyed. I need free reign. And access to all kitchen cupboards and the cat bowls.
The lady from my playgroup on Thursdays. I like her face. NOW PERFORM FOR ME BITCH.
A wooden spoon.
Some shiny paper.
The entire contents of the coffee table bowl that Mummy keeps putting ‘up high’.
Also – please shave off your beard. I hate beards, and yours is particularly offensive as it makes you look like a giant rapey pirate.
And a new birthday. This one is shit. Some time in July would be nice. Ta.