Every now and then, something pops up in my feed which has me shaking my head and chuckling at the same time. Recently, most have involved Donald Trump, but occasionally something truly, wonderfully, mind-bogglingly WTFing will show up and make my day.
Like the email above (from here), which was apparently sent out to one side of little He Who Must Not Be Named For Fear Of Kidnapping‘s family in preparation for his first birthday.
There’s so much to love about this email. It’s not even a major point, but I’m in awe these parents know exactly how many books their son has. That is some serious finger on the pulse parenting. Around here, I’m flat out keeping track of which kids are sleeping in which bedrooms.
Now to be fair, and in the interests of full disclosure, I have made suggestions to my parents for presents, but only when asked or if a kid had his or her heart set on something specific. What’s more, I half expected all items to be in the hundreds, but surprisingly these two were cheap as chips (Ikea Tunnel & Ikea Tent), so clawing back some badly needed points there.
Plus, maybe I’m being unfair comparing our kids’ expectations of their first birthday parties because this kid, it must be said, is clearly a prodigy. I mean, it didn’t occur to my kids to issue a ‘formal invite’ to birthday parties until they were through finishing school. And to still be on (very expensive) formula, but have the wherewithal to arrange a storage unit…wow.
But probably my favourite bit is right at the very bottom. The email is from both parents. It has been my experience this is rarely the case. I put it to you shortly after this email was sent one or the other parent was, in fact, sitting on the loo in the bathroom with the shower running, apologising to their own parents and begging them to please just do what it says and not cause waves because He Who Must Not Be Named For Fear Of Kidnapping isn’t sleeping and we’re tired as hell and irritable and a little psycho and to be honest I’m just trying to get through the next twelve months and save my marriage.
And while of course I wouldn’t make things worse for my kids by sending back a potentially slanderous response, I think it’s fair to say, come cake day, I would get my bitch on and He Who Must Not Be Named For Fear Of Kidnapping would probably unwrap a something which wasn’t entirely sanctioned.
Off the top of my head, I’d probably go with one or more of the following:
- Markets. The paper trail goes cold at craft markets, so sadly there would be no receipt. They do, however, make some really funky stuffed and wooden toys. Which market? I can’t remember, dear. I go to so many.
- Music To My Ears. These parents sound stressed and, as we all know, nothing soothes like music. Which is why I’d buy my grandson his very first recorder. I’d also quite happily have his name engraved on it – which is fine in this case because it’s only for around the house.
- Something Light. Glow in the dark bracelets. Only not the good ones. I’d seek out the shit ones from cheap shops which break open easy and spill their glowiness all over tents and tunnels and clothing which, even if they don’t have their name emblazoned on them, you really will only want to them wearing around the house from now on.
- Formula. Let’s just cut out the middle man.
- Craft. Having already shown a natural flair for event management, I’d be keen to see if my grandson showed any innate abilities for other creative fields. Like painting. With acrylics. Honestly, I’m just trying to help.
- Kinetic Sand. Receipt included. Try getting that out of your carpet or cracks in your floorbacks, let alone back in the box for a refund.
- Super Personalised Items. I see your shirt with the birthday boy’s name on it (for around the house only) and I raise you one with his face emblazoned across the front. Kidnap proof.
What would you do?
“Raising a family on little more than laughs”
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