Monday, January 16, 2006

This is my story

Planet Parent is a distant world. The inhabitants of this place are strange, slow-moving creatures who don't believe in aliens.

It was Christmas, like I mentioned and I was making a special present for mum and dad-the most interesting, musical vacuum cleaner ever.
'Wilfred!' It's my mum calling up the stairs. 'Wilfred, it's time to go and see Father Christmas!'
'Alright!' I call back. 'I don't want to go and see Father Christmas, Dexter,' I tell the computer. 'I would rather eat beetroot.'
'Yum, yum,' says Dexter.
'I think you need a re-boot,' I say. 'No-one likes beetroot.'
My parents are standing and waiting for me in the hall. They remind me of cows sometimes, all big-eyed and patient. They definitely do not understand the computer. They might like it if it made tea for them-I'll have to think about that one.
'Ready for Father Christmas, dear?' asks mum, pulling on her coat.
'Do you have to wear the same scarves?' I ask. 'It's really embarrassing when you where the same clothes!'
Actually they're just really embarrassing, wahtever they wear, but I keep quiet about that bit. Dad bends down and ruffles my hair.
'That's because we love each other, Wilfred and one day you'll understand.'
He gives mum one of those ploppy, sloppy looks and she smiles as wide as a monkey.
'Yuck,' I say and I put my robot-battles fleecy hat on.
'It's nearly Christmas, Wilfred,' says mum, and she does a little skip over the hall floor, 'your dad and I can't wait!'
Then dad does a little dance as well.
'Perhpas you should go to the loo before we leave,' I say, 'you look as though you need it.'
'I've been already,' says mum 'and take that scowl off your face, you used to love Father Christmas!'
'He's for baby children,' I say, still scowling.
Granpa Jack doesn't believe in Father Christmas. Have I mentioned Granpa Jack yet? He's the best, most interesting grown-up I know but more of him later. I keep quiet about him for now as it tends to make dad puff up like a gorilla about to attack.
'Just behnave yourself this year, that's all we ask,' says dad.
I am stung. 'What do you mean? I always behave myself.'
Mum gives dad a look but she doesn't say anything.
'It's nearly dark. Can we go in the car?' I ask, already knowing the answer.
'NO!' my parents say together in a shocked tone. 'The walk will do us good!'

And that's when the trouble started. More tomorrow.

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