Letters to Santa

At this time of year millions of children across the world are busily writing letters to Santa. The four children in my home wrote theirs last week. The requests were for a pair of Spy Glasses (what?), some Monster High Rollerblades (where?), 'A Surprise' (HELP!) and finally, the latest Ipod Touch, 64GB with four inch retina display, I-Skin cover and BEATS headgear by an American rapper named Dr Dre (Dr who?). Our teenager requested the latter and I suspect that her letter is evidence that she may be doubting the existence of a Santa.  She's not stupid after all. She handed me her envelope pointing out that the elves must be very talented if they really can make the latest Ipod Touch 64GB as Apple is based in California which is miles away from the North Pole and that if the elves really do make them, that is it illegal and that they are essentially manufacturing fake goods. I may write my own letter to Santa and request a year's therapy, even better, ask for psychologist David Coleman himself in my stocking. 

This is a dangerous game that my teenager is playing. She has me in a corner. I am not ready for the Big Fat Santa Discussion but she is almost fifteen, she can legally leave home next year and at some point we do have to address the issue. Perhaps it is something that her school could deal with. They cover sex education, hygiene and drugs after all, surely they could add Santa to the list of life lessons? It would certainly save me the trauma. Just as I was about to pick up the phone and call the North Pole for advice, another less complicated daughter gave me a letter. "Can you post this please?"  She had written another letter to the President of the United States. 

"Dear Brack O'Bama, I have some questions for you. Are you proud to be the first black pestilent? You are so lucky to be the pestilent but if you could make something stop, what would it be? Also, what is your favourite colour? Please write back to me".  I slipped it into an envelope and promised to send it.  He has more time on his hands now that he has won a second term and there is a slim chance that he might reply if he can see past the spelling mistakes. Hopefully he'll understand that she meant to write PRESIDENT and did not really consider him to be the least bit poisonous. My youngest daughter is nine and was inspired by a friend of hers named Tom Murphy. 

At Tom's school a few months back, the children were encouraged by their teacher to write to a famous person. It could be a singer, a writer, an actor, a musician, a scientist, a sportsman or woman, religious leaders - they really could wrote to anyone in the world and ask them whatever they liked. The lads in One Direction proved a popular choice with the girls as did the football players in Manchester United with the boys but Tom decided to write to the Queen of England. He spent a good few days composing the letter and being an imaginative kind of boy, he soon had three questions for her Majesty. "Dear Queen. Do you have snow where you live? Do you have slaves? Do you have gold toilet seats? Love Tom Murphy, aged seven". The teacher collected the thirty or so letters and sent them off with a stamped addressed envelope . The class waited for months before the replies came. 

"Two letters arrived today children" the teacher announced some twelve weeks later. Out of thirty letters sent out as part of the class project, only two were sent replies back. One was addressed to Tom and the other to a little girl, Abbey. Tom opened his envelope first, it was stamped 'Buckingham Palace'. Upon the thick cream coloured paper, a type written letter. Tom stood up in front of the class and read it out. "Dear Tom. Her Majesty was delighted to receive your letter. As you can imagine she gets hundreds each day and cannot possibly reply to each one in person. Thank you for your interest, Lady Forsyth Brown. Lady In Waiting". The children clapped and gasped at the response even though is wasn't written by the Queen of England herself. Tom was too young to know or care that it was probably the same standard letter that every child receives from Lady Forsyth Brown on behalf of a very busy Queen Elizabeth. That was until little Abbey opened up her letter. 

Abbey had written to someone who may not have been a member of the royal family but is considered by many little girls to be a real life Princess of the pop world.  "Tell class who you wrote to Abbey" their teacher encouraged her. "I wrote to Cheryl Cole". Opening the letter carefully, she held it up for all to see. There were not many words written on it compared to the Queen's Lady in Waiting. But Abbey only asked one very simple question. She didn't care about the weather in Newcastle or Cheryl Cole's toilet. The words on the reply were large, bold and hand written. Cheryl Cole from Girl's Aloud had taken the time to answer personally, in her own hand. "Tell everyone what you asked Cheryl Cole", Abbey told her classmates, "I asked her, DEAR CHERYL. ARE YOU VERY RICH?" The children all listened in wonder. "And what does it say on the letter?" Asked teacher. "It says, Dear Abbey, YES I AM. Love Cheryl Cole"

I'll not stop my children writing letters to Santa, Barrack Obama or Dr Dre. In the age of the email and text, letter writing is a dying art form. As for the Big Fat Santa Question, they can go on believing until they are forty. Am I mad? YES I AM.