I 've always taken my grandchildren to Father Christmas. It's a tradition. We did the same when our children were little. I say "we" because there were two of us then. I thought there would be two of us forever but it turned out that Jeff had been waiting for our youngest to turn 18. There wasn't anyone else apparently. He just wanted to jack in his job and "find himself".
Anyway, back to Father Christmas.
After Jeff left, our youngest daughter fell madly in love. "I know it means turning down my place at uni, Mum," she said.
"But Matt and I are serious." A year later, Evie was born. As soon as they put my granddaughter in my arms, I was filled with a love I can't even describe.
The same happened when Sam was born.
Jeff didn't know what he was missing.
Sam is five now and Evie is six. I look after them while my daughter does her delayed degree at the local college and my son-in-law works. We play on the beach.
We go swimming. We have dinosaur hunts. I collect them from school. Now, because my daughter is doing her end of term exams, I'm taking them on my own to Father Christmas at the garden centre.
Apparently, it's had a "makeover".
"Wow," says Evie. "This is amazing!" Sam's mouth is open too. As well as the usual reindeer, there are green dinosaurs with sparkling lights and elephants and mermaids. We don't even notice the queue because there's so much to see on the way.
"I used to take your mummy and uncle to see Father Christmas," I say.
"Did Grandad come too?" asks Evie.
I've never discussed Jeff with the children but I suppose it's only natural that my daughter has. Maybe they chat online.
But he's never seen them, of course.
Denne historien er fra December 13, 2022-utgaven av My Weekly.
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Denne historien er fra December 13, 2022-utgaven av My Weekly.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
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