MAKEASTAND.. &DON’TDELIVER
Don’t give in to children’s outrageous demands this Christmas, says ANNA BURNSIDE, who remembers the days when a bag of cotton wool balls did just fine FRIDAY
“DEAR Santa,
“What I would like for Christmas is a shopping trip to Cruise. I know it is a very smart and expensive shop selling only the finest labels but, hey, it’s that time of year.
“I’ve not been particularly good but I am confident you’ll overlook that inconvenient fact.
“And you can take me out for lunch while you are at it.”
This isn’t my note to Father Christmas. I’d be delighted with new oven gloves and some fancy shower gel.
This is my son Joe’s missive to the big fella in the red suit. Joe is 12. How did this happen? When did children start making such outrageous demands – and their parents start giving in to them?
I was 12 in 1976. Santa brought me a transistor radio, which was called a tranny back in those innocent days.
My stocking also had strawberry bath salts, a gloopy face pack, Miners sparkly lilac eyeshadow, a Terry’s chocolate orange and a tangerine.
There would also be tights, knickers, pyjamas, books, pens and other useful items that I needed anyway, wrapped up and passed off as a gift.
Other relations didn’t go crazy either. One granny gave each of her granddaughters a three-pack of M&S pants. The boys probably got socks.
The other pushed the boat out and allowed me to choose something from the Kensitas coupon catalogue. She basically smoked her way to my Christmas present every year.
She added in a selection box and a bag of cotton wool balls.
I’m not making this up – and I did not have a deprived childhood.
Some of my friends got more elaborate gifts, but that meant a camera or a set of Carmen rollers – not a flat-screen telly or a PS4.
The Argos catalogue of 1976 had a splendid range of trannies for around a fiver.
A Raleigh Champ bike with detachable stablilisers was £22.95.
Today, the consensus seems to be that spending £300 on children’s Christmas presents is perfectly acceptable.
Joe will not be getting that kind of budget to spend in Cruise, a shop I did not frequent until I was well into my thirties. At his age, I thought What Every Woman Wants was elegant and sophisticated.
But once you add in the stocking fillers and the lunch, I will probably end up about £300 down on the whole deal.
Joe’s obsession with designer finery started in primary seven. Overnight, my sweet little boy in his Florence and Fred jogging bottoms wanted Stone Island.
Now he is in first year at secondary, it is all about the labels. Everything must have a tiny crocodile or a landing eagle on it. And once you have a phone and a PlayStation, more tiny crocodiles is the only thing your heart desires.
I’ve attempted to put a note of sanity into this madness by insisting we wait until the sales have started. I will also attempt to guide him towards things he needs – trousers and trainers rather than the T-shirts and hoodies he prefers.
This goes against many people’s idea of Christmas but I don’t care.
His heart desires a Stone Island puffa jacket at around £500. That is frankly bonkers. I can’t stand by and watch him spend the price of my first car on an anorak.
I know this is how the world works now but I miss the more innocent Christmases of my childhood.
Kids out on their new bikes, roller skates and skateboards. Wearing new cowboy outfits, nurses uniforms and Scotland strips. Pushing dollies in fancy new prams.
Joe’s new joggers, hoodies and puffa jackets will look a lot like his old ones.
And while he and his pals enjoy discussing who is getting what trainers, and how much cash they are collecting from their aunties, there is not much fun, excitement or anticipation on their faces.
Bring back the days of a pair of socks and a festive bag of cotton wool balls.
I know this is how the world works now but I miss the more innocent Christmases of my childhood