The best Christmas ever

Yesterday was Christmas day, though I didn’t know it was when I woke up. I think I want to be Christian if all their holidays are as good as yesterday was.

     What’s going on I thought as mum dressed me in my orange sparkly party dress. Everyone was busy, blowing up balloons, sticking tinselly stuff on the pictures and hanging it from the ceiling. Lots of pots were bubbling and the kitchen was full of people getting in each others’ way, talking loud, chopping and stirring, hacking and mixing. Cun was there, I think he was drunk, so too was bloody Gary (well, that’s what everyone calls him) and his horrible Manchester. You can always tell where Manchester has been; there’s snot on it.

     Kop and Pang had new shoes, and their old ones aren’t even old yet. They were drinking Coca Cola. They tried to get me to drink some, but, I don’t know, it didn’t seem right, drinking that early in the morning. Dad would have a fit, I thought, so I had milk instead.

     Mum was in the bathroom an awfully long time. When she came out, I thought it was a movie star. She had been painting a princess on her face, her mouth was bright red, and she had a white face and green with blue colours on her eyes. She was wearing new sexy-pants as well. She looked beautiful.

     She took me out into the garden and I had to shut my eyes. I peeped, so she put her hands over my eyes to make it dark. When she took her hands away, and I stopped blinking, I had the fright of my life. A giant man stood there. He had long white hair and a big white beard. His shirt and trousers were red, so was his hat, and he was wearing my dad’s black wellies.

     He said; “Ho, ho, ho.” I thought he wanted to eat me. Dad always said that I looked good enough to eat when I was dressed in my party dress. He said; “Come here little India. I have a special surprise for you.” Well, that did it, I burst out crying and hid my face in mum’s legs so he wouldn’t be able to see me, and went off to eat Manchester, or one of my brothers, who aren’t my real brothers, preferable all three of them, instead.

     But he didn’t, he took hold of me, I was screaming, he was going to eat me for breakfast for sure. Why didn't mum stop him I thought. 

     He then pulled at his big white beard. It fell off. “Don’t be scared darling, it’s only me having a joke,” he said.

     I didn't know what he meant. Who was it having a joke? Why was he having a joke? Didn’t he want me for his breakfast really? I peeped round from mum’s legs, and realised who it was; Dad.

     It was my dad, back from his ‘ventures at last. Come back to take care of me as he should have been all along. He must have heard the promise I made to Mae Khong Kha not to get on his nerves if he would only come back to me. He must have heard my promise and my wish too because, guess what he brought with him?

     The pink Barbie Bike that I really, really wanted, with a bell and everything. 

I love Christmas. I love my dad.