The spirit of Christmas?

Never mind my soul, it worries me that Christmas has become a time for me and my siblings to destroy those of my parents. Not in a malicious way, but is it just my mum and dad who seem a little bit madder every time I go home? And is it just me who reacts to unconditional love by ripping the piss out of those who gave me life because they won’t hold it against me?

A case in point. My mamma, bless her, is a bit foreign. Her English is close to perfect but she makes the occasional slip up. My favourites include an email she sent to my brother and I, the subject line of which read “Hello you gays!!!” This Christmas we were making macaroons until mum realised that she had forgotten to buy the designated coconut. Very sweet really, but how did my sister and I react? We laughed in her face. We cried, “Mamma you’re so silly, it’s desiccated, not designated! Hahaha.”

Then, we reported the mistake to the rest of the family so they could do the same. Six is a lot of people laughing at a second language speaker. If it had been someone I’m not related to, I’d have been far more subtle about correcting them and hardly have laughed at all. My dad was similarly victimised, and we were most disparaging about the effort he’d put in to make Christmas enjoyable. We laughed at his quality survey of mince pies, at his stock phrase “it’s nearly all organic” and the weeks he’d spent feeding the Christmas cake brandy.

Resolving to stop lying? I need to get my priorities in order and start being nice to two people who took it upon themselves to change my nappies. Never mind your parents fucking you up, what about your children?

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