You can’t kill Santa without payback...
Oh Joy! The Christmas lists from my two boys have arrived.
My eldest son, Bradley, seems to have misread the rules. On turning 18 he is now no longer a child but a fully fledged adult. In other words, it’s payback time.
Surely he can’t expect to still be presenting Christmas wish lists to his parents now he’s an adult?
We’re the ones who should be saddling him with the bill for 18 years board and lodgings. That is how it works, isn’t it?
Problem is, I’m struggling to find the paperwork to back this up. I’ve checked all the small print on his birth certificate but there’s nothing about repayment. I can only assume it was an oversight on the part of the registrar. She seemed a bit flaky when I mentioned it to her when registering his birth. I took her laughter as empathy, not stupidity. I mean, who’s going to agree to take on a whinging infant whose only contribution to the world is a steady stream of tears, vomit and faecal matter?
The wife was keen, I grant you, but I was looking at the long game. I wanted a return on my investment.
According to a study carried out by the Centre of Economic and Business Research, the average cost of raising a baby to adulthood is £230,000. They are in the right ballpark with that figure. I calculated the cost of bringing up Brad to be £232,764 and 42 pence (I kept all the receipts). As such, I wasn’t expecting a Christmas list from our Bradley, I was expecting the first instalment of a monthly repayment into my bank account. Is £100 a month too much to ask?
At this point, I suspect you’re going to argue that you bring a child up out of love, not for future financial gain!
Yeah, yeah, I thought you might say that, our Bradley used the same line on me.
Well, not directly to me, but through my legal team. I’ve left to them to sort out the details of his repayment schedule.
Fortunately, his brother is not so ‘emotional’ about the whole Christmas thing.
It’s hard to believe that only five years ago I had to explain to our Isaac (now 14) that there was no such thing as Santa Claus. He didn’t take it well. I felt like a murderer. The man who killed Santa. And I didn’t stop there.
When explaining that Santa wasn’t real, I was forced to expand the kill zone. After Santa, he asked about the Tooth Fairy! I had to despatch the Tooth Fairy and empty a chamber into the Easter Bunny’s head. The existence of God, I left hanging. I’ve always hedged my bets on that one. I’d like to think our Isaac forgives me for taking out Father Christmas, but the evidence suggests otherwise.
Why else, I ask you, do children’s demands for Christmas presents get more expensive after they realise they aren’t made for free by Santa’s but are bought by the parents?
Payback, I say. And it should work both ways… That’ll be £100 Bradley. Oh, and Merry Christmas.