My first born leaves me little notes by my bed all the time. I know when he’s done this because it will cause him to hysterically giggle at any point where he thinks I might be heading up the stairs.
Sometimes the notes make no sense, sometimes I can’t even work out what they say, but hey, that’s phonics for you. Sometimes they simply say ‘I’m an elf’ designed to scare the life out of me, sometimes they make me smile and sometimes they say ‘I’m upset’ and it makes me sad.
Sometimes I realise it’s him telling me something, he’s hurting, he’s worried, he’s regretful, he’s playful, he wants to stay up late. Sometimes I realise it’s him just being him, he’s a sensitive kid.
I’ve found myself wondering what he’d write if say, he had more time, or could be bothered to write a full on letter, perhaps his battery is flat on his tablet or Scooby Doo isn’t on TV and he’s at a loose end. Who knows, but maybe if he did, it would go something like this….
To Mum
I’m fed up because you never let me stay up late. Except on Wednesdays to watch the train thing on channel 5, although since I now want to be a train driver I would call this educational and essential to my career development. OK, on Friday’s too. But that’s only so I can watch Gardener’s World with Dad, it’s a father – son thing, you wouldn’t understand. Even though Dad falls asleep every week, all the time, as soon as it starts. Really these two nights are not for fun, therefore technically the only night I get to stay up late and really kick back and relax is on Saturday. Do you realise how hard it is to wait an entire week to really enjoy an evening? Watch The Voice, devour popcorn and sprawl out on the comfy chair? I know you like it too even though you give the impression it makes you want to pop your own eyeballs out with a spoon. I’ve spotted you secretly watching.
You are not the boss of me. OK, I kind of know that you are. But you can’t actually make me brush my teeth or have a shower or eat my peas. But I will anyway, because if I don’t, I know I won’t get to watch The Voice and I’ve come to the understand that this is one of the few things in life I can use to torture you and Dad with. Well that and not ever listening and watching the Chipmonks or Scooby Doo on repeat 247 million times a day.
I am sorry but I just cannot agree to try new things simply because you tell me they will be fun. I mean, can you actually guarantee this? Really? I mean, I know I was wrong about bacon sandwiches, but not everything is going to be that tasty in life and I do need half a bottle of tomato ketchup to make them absolutely perfect.
Just in case there was ever any confusion, I’d like to clarify. I will never attend a swimming lesson without spending the whole drive to the pool crying my eyes out and ensuring you feel totally guilty for making me do it. I will not learn to ride my bike on two wheels just to make you feel better for spending loads of money on the thing and I will not try fajitas just to make Saturday night meals ‘exciting’. I enjoy watching you squirm, huff and drink wine until your lips are purple and you don’t realise that you have allowed me to eat a whole family size packet of onions rings and four bars of chocolate.
Just to confirm, because I think there has been an error in communication on this one. I will not go back to school in September. OK, I will, but I won’t make it easy for you so don’t be getting any ideas. I will not get up early that day, even though I am usually up before 6 am and this has been my life for the past two years. I will not get my school uniform on until you have told me to do so at least 400 times. I will then make sure to accidentally but probably on purpose, dribble toothpaste down the front of my brand new school jumper, because I know that stuff is hard to get out. And FYI, threats of not watching The Voice on Saturday will not work on this one, because it’s repeated Sundays. Finally, I will moan about carrying my PE bag AND my book bag into the classroom all my my self and I absolutely refuse to take any wellies with me. I don’t care what the newsletter says, I will not be having fun of any kind, so I won’t need them.
Thank you for saying I can have a dog, I promise to love it forever, but please explain to Dad that I do not want to walk anywhere other than the nearest green area. I refuse to leave my chair, that’s right I lay claim to the chair, to go for ‘walkies‘ and I will never, ever in my life pick up poo. But I promise I will look after him and do all the fun stuff, like get him riled up in the house until he accidentally poops on your carpet and I can’t wait.
Finally, just so we are on the same page here because sometimes I have my doubts. I never plan on leaving home, therefore I will not give up my bedroom in any capacity. So stop telling me I have to swap with my sister so the other two can share. It’s just not happening. And, while we are at it, please stop the baby from entering my bedroom and moving my Nerf gun collection around, they are in a very exact and precise order and I do not want this to be compromised in any way. Trust me, you’ll thank me for it one day.
From your son, the first one.
