I have a confession to make … I have been known to humiliate my children on an annual basis. I'm sure they would say I do so much more frequently … but there is one thing that I do every single year which humiliates them … beyond all other humiliations.
I don't make them hold my hand in public … and call me Mummy Dearest. I don't query loudly if they need to do a number one or a number two whenever there's a toilet handy. I don't dress them in matching outfits … oh wait … might have to scratch that one.
NO … I don't do any of those things … what I do is much, much worse.
Once a year … I take them to get a photo with Santa.
As time has progressed and this little tradition has become less of an exciting adventure … and more of a horrifying ordeal … we have had to change our modus operandi.
Now we have to travel to a shopping centre several suburbs away … and sneak inside under the cover of darkness.
"Mum … we're too old … it's embarrassing," they moan and groan.
And each year I tell them that it's all I really want for Christmas. So how can they deny me such a simple request? What … when I cook and clean and gave birth to them and all?
So each year I ask for another Santa photo … and I fully intend to keep asking for one until I'm dead … or too old and senile to remember to ask for one. Two balding. middle aged men and Santa … yep .. it will be a dream come true.
It's just such a fabulous way to record the passing years.
So suck it up boys … let's consider it character building.
My work here is done … see you same time next year.