The Twelve Days of Christmas for Parents

I have a confession to make – I love Christmas music. I could listen to it all day, every day and never get sick of it. When I was a student I worked many a Christmas period in a well known highstreet card and gift shop and even then, after hearing the same twelve Christmas songs repeated for eight hours, I didn’t get sick of them (the customers were a different story – Christmas shoppers are mental, it’s card for fuck’s sake get a grip).

But I realise that not everyone shares my joy of the novelty record (the Husband in particular) so I make myself wait. And then when the calendar turns to first December, I’m there with my Slade and Wham and a bit of Bing Crosby to Christmas music the shit out of life. This week I tuned our radio alarm into Heart Xmas and even the Husband admits it’s nicer waking up to the holler of “It’s Chriiiiiiiiiiistmas’ then Radio 4’s 6am news headline of doom.

Yet this year there has been one song/ carol that I can’t help noticing is a little out-of-dated, a little unrealistic and that’s The Twelve Days of Christmas.

I mean why the hell is your true love buying you so many bloody birds (twenty-two in case you’re wondering)? So I’ve decided to rewrite the classic to make it more fitting for us parents, just trying to make it through until New Year (quick tip, it’s better if you sing it):

On the first day of Christmas parenting gave to me:
An Elf on the sodding Shelf

On the second day of Christmas parenting gave to me:
Two knock-off Hatchimals
and an Elf on the sodding Shelf

On the third day of Christmas parenting gave to me:
Three carol concerts
Two knock-off Hatchimals
and an Elf on the sodding Shelf

On the fourth day of Christmas parenting gave to me:
Four pointless Santa visits
Three carol concerts
Two knock-off Hatchimals
and an Elf on the sodding Shelf

On the fifth day of Christmas parenting gave to me:
Five migraines
Four pointless Santa visits
Three carol concerts
Two knock-off Hatchimals
and an Elf on the sodding Shelf

On the sixth day of Christmas parenting gave to me:
Six nativity costumes
Five migraines
Four pointless Santa visits
Three carol concerts
Two knock-off Hatchimals
and an Elf on the sodding Shelf

On the seventh day of Christmas parenting gave to me:
Seven bouts of norovirus
Six nativity costumes
Five migraines
Four pointless Santa visits
Three carol concerts
Two knock-off Hatchimals
and an Elf on the sodding Shelf

On the eighth day of Christmas parenting gave to me:
Eight drunken Amazon purchases
Seven bouts of norovirus
Six nativity costumes
Five migraines
Four pointless Santa visits
Three carol concerts
Two knock-off Hatchimals
and an Elf on the sodding Shelf

On the ninth day of Christmas parenting gave to me:
Nine ill-advised hangovers
Eight drunken Amazon purchases
Seven bouts of norovirus
Six nativity costumes
Five migraines
Four pointless Santa visits
Three carol concerts
Two knock-off Hatchimals
and an Elf on the sodding Shelf

On the tenth day of Christmas parenting gave to me:
Ten Christmas Eve tantrums
Nine ill-advised hangovers
Eight drunken Amazon purchases
Seven bouts of norovirus
Six nativity costumes
Five migraines
Four pointless Santa visits
Three carol concerts
Two knock-off Hatchimals
and an Elf on the sodding Shelf

On the eleventh day of Christmas parenting gave to me:
Eleven toys with batteries not included
Ten Christmas Eve tantrums
Nine ill-advised hangovers
Eight drunken Amazon purchases
Seven bouts of norovirus
Six nativity costumes
Five migraines
Four pointless Santa visits
Three carol concerts
Two knock-off Hatchimals
and an Elf on the sodding Shelf

On the twelfth day of Christmas parenting gave to me:
Twelve toy building related expletives
Eleven toys with batteries not included
Ten Christmas Eve tantrums
Nine ill-advised hangovers
Eight drunken Amazon purchases
Seven bouts of norovirus
Six nativity costumes
(sing it loud) Five migraines
Four pointless Santa visits
Three carol concerts
Two knock-off Hatchimals
and an Elf on the sodding Shelf.

 

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