At this stage in the game, I merely raise an eyebrow.
I have been called a lot worse in the space of the last half hour and although I desperately want to snap back: “Not half as much as I hate you!” I feel silence is probably the best option that and the fact that my husband has given me a sharp kick under the table and a meaningful glare across it.
It is that day of the year again: the day for writing the dreaded ‘Thank You’ letters. Now I love Christmas and I am a glutton when it comes to pressies but nothing in life is free and with gifts and the like comes the ‘Thank Yous’.
Most people still prefer a hand written form of ‘Thank You’ and I truly appreciate that but I am afraid I am not much better than my eldest when it comes to writing them. I don’t know why but my mind freezes and I can just about get out: “Thank you for my lovely present” before I completely atrophy and the life support machine of my creative thinking just goes blank.
There’s no point trying to jump start it, resurrect it or even try to enliven it; for the stuff that comes from my pen on to the card is lifeless. And it must sound it too. D. E.A.D. Without pulse. Basically lacking.
However, the letters must be written for they hang over you like vultures in the sky ever present and ominous. Which is why I find myself sitting at the kitchen table with both boys and husband trying very hard not to sigh too loudly again. I also try not to scream as for the umpteenth time The Boy asks me how to spell “Present”.
Me: It’s right there in front of you!”
Me: “There!” as I point to the offending word, which is written out as part of a draft letter on a card in front of him so that all he has to do is copy it then draw a nice picture – would that someone could do that for me!
Him: “Can I not just write what the present is rather than say present?”
I give him a cold look.
Me: “You can write whatever you want just as long as you write it!”
Him: “But how do you spell it?”
Me: “It’s right there in front Boy. Just copy it for God’s sake.
Him: “No, not that. The present; how do you spell it
Me - a bit confused: “P.R.E.S.E.N.T.”
Him: “Is that what it’s called?”
By this time I am well and truly infuriated and I notice that he’s only got as far as writing the “T” in “Thank You”.
Dear Charlie can see I’m about to explode. I get a sharp thwack on my ankle.
Me: “Ow! That hurts!”
DC: “Would you like a cup of tea?”
I do love my husband. He is an expert at diffusing things. Especially letter writing as he knows I loathe it with a passion which I fear my eldest has inherited too.
There are dire threats as I leave the table to boil the kettle. No sweets, no TV and definitely no Nintendo until all the letters are written. I am distraught. Only five more to go…
Needless to say all the letters did get written, now I just have to get my arse into gear and pop them in the envelopes, buy the stamps and send them!