Dad doesn't explode very often but when he does things get messy. The last time he exploded was in Tesco. He had just read something political in the newspaper of the woman standing in the queue in front of us. He told Mum about it very loudly and she told him to speak quietly. But he just got very cross about the state of things today and woke the woman's baby up. She called him something rude and he EXPLODED. He was even more embarrassing than normal.
So to continue. Dad is looking fit to explode because we've done him a favour.
'Don't tell me that wood,' he points a trembling finger at the neat pile of sticks at his feet. 'Don't tell me that's the antique chair I've been restoring for Mum!'
'There were two of them,' I say but not very loud.
Dad puts a hand through what's left of his hair. This isn't looking good.
'Dexter did one of them,' I say, turning round but Dexter has run off-again.
Don't tell me you've chopped up both of them!' groans Dad.
So I don't-tell him that is.
'Speak then, Wilfred!'
'You told me not to.'
'Don't be cheeky!' he's shouting again. 'Or...or Father Christmas won't be coming!!'
Mum appears in the doorway. She has her disappointed face on. 'Oh, Wilfred, Father Christmas will be unhappy with you.'
I think carefully about how I am going to tell them that Father Christmas is not an actual person. Because right now-
I'm fed up with them.
I'm fed up with Granpa Jack.
I'm fed up with the whole magic of Christmas.
'Well, Father Christmas isn't real anyway! So there! Ha-ha!'
I didn't mean to add the end bits but I couldn't help it.
There is a long pause before Mum says in a really quiet voice. 'We believe in him.'
Her nose turns red and her eyes are leaking.
'I need a drink,' says Dad.