The kids and I get to London last night just in time to catch an early dinner and fall asleep. The kids, being used to Hawaiian Time (GMT -10) were up at 3 this morning. We went to see Father Christmas at a well-known London department store, and by the time we got to him at 10:30, I was already set to call it a day. The result was the following exchange:
Santa: And who's that there? (pointing to me)
Joshua: That's my dad.
Santa: And what does he want for Christmas?
Me: Oh, just a little peace and quiet.
Santa (Laughing): Well, I can't fucking guarantee that one, mate!
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That's awesome. Don't you just love it when Santa swears? I think all childrens' fictional characters should do that.
I hope you get your gift wish this year. But I know I'm not getting much of that. Too many people to visit and not enough money left. As someone who just got out of university a year ago, I'm still finding it shocking that, once you have a well-paying job, people actually expect you to buy them stuff. And stuff is expensive.
I just want to point out that, on the old blog, you censored me because I dropped an f-bomb. Cut out the whole danged post.
And here you are, letting Santa cuss. For SHAME. Shame! Shame!
I think I'm allowed to use whatever words I want again. After all, what's the worst I could do? Sound like Santa Claus? There are worse fates in this world.