One of the Christmas traditions that few use anymore is a Christmas newsletter. Before social media, it was a way for families to communicate what happened the previous year. Here is a Christmas letter from the mother of a very famous little boy. Try not to make yourself feel sad, by comparing your last year to his.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
January began as have so many previous years —with a birthday party for our dear angel, Damian. We played pin the tail on the donkey, red rover, Angels versus the Vatican and other popular children's games. Damian was such a lovable scamp, as he slurped down his punch with gusto, saying he was “enjoying the blood of the innocent.” Kids say the darnedest things.
Besides the goody bags, the party ended with an unrelated birthday suicide of one of the help. Let's hope this doesn't become a tradition, as help is so hard to find. The children all received yo-yos. Of course, we took them to the non-corpse wing of the house. Many of them seemed quite pale. Sadly, there was many instances of tears and upset stomachs that I can only attribute to having too much cake. The coroner said that the body showed no signs of foul play. He then turned to our little child and nervously said “Right boy.” It warms my heart to see an elderly gentleman take such care in calming a child's fears. Hopefully we will have a chance to see him again to thank him.
School was back in full swing by February. Damian is getting into quite the bit of mischief. Hopefully the local squirrels have gotten the message at this point. He keeps trying to get us to take him to the local mortuary for a field trip. Our little scientist. I believe the new nanny is exactly what he needs. She said she was “hanging around” for awhile and was excited when the agency contacted her. She was so excited I forgot to mention, I didn't remember contacting the agency. I could tell she understood children when she showed up with Rottweiler. I apologize as I am sure that the next few months will not be so dramatic.
As I look back on March, I see that the old saying is correct. It did indeed come in like a lion and go out with a baboon attack. Before the monkey rampage, I have to describe how cute Damian was acting in church. I was teasing him playing saying the power of Christ compelled him. He told me I could do something unseemly with a crucifix. (Probably copied from some cartoon. Some one should look into what is played on Saturday mornings. Too many are focused on selling toys.)People looked at us askew when we brought Damian into the church, but I remember not seeing the value of church when I was younger. So what if I never used it as an excuse to draw blood. Doesn't mean I didn't want to?
Did I mention the baboons? You read about monkey attacks on the news all the time, but you never think it will happen to you. In a zoo of all places. Is it expecting too much to expect animals to be civilized? Always running around naked as if that impressed anyone. I'd seen quite enough, even before they started attacking my wittle darling. They must have smelled the bacon he had a week ago. Luckily he was able to be pulled out before he became another statistic.
April showers bring May flowers. They also seem to bring lightening storms that appear to mostly kill those on my property who have had conversations with my husband. I haven’t been able to eavesdrop easily on these conversation, but was able to make up that my son was refereed to as a possible something Christ. Probably means something good. He has taken to killing whatever animals come on to the property to protect us. Bless his heart.
June brought a meeting with Damian’s teachers. Teachers are the backbone of this country and need our understanding for the difficult jobs they do. That is why I can’t just blame them for the incompetence that I have seen today. The other children’s parents deserve some blame as well. The words they used to describe my little angel. “Slightly unruly”, “sometimes needs help”, “does not always say thank you”, were just some of the vulgar slurs used to malign him. One of the other students cannot eat peanuts, which causes much disruption, but there is no dark mark against him. The primary “problem” with Damian appears to be screaming fits which last for hours. My suggestion of “well, then just give him what he wants”, was greeted with unkind looks. That teacher’s union always protects the wrong kind.
July and August are more of a blur because of the fainting spells. Fainting of course means I’m pregnant. I refuse to go to the doctor of course, because I don’t want my baby given the vaccine that causes autism. Damian has never been to a doctor and he is the picture of health. The herbs from the garden that I rub on him daily keep the rabies and lock jaw at bay. Don’t tell me I don’t understand science.
September was when we told Damian about the good news. As you can expect, he took it well. He first broke all his toys into two pieces. This, of course, was so he could share all them with his new sibling. He also said he would “rather die first”, which I took to mean that he couldn't imagine a world without his brother. I’m sure he will be a huge help.
By October, we were forced to face the facts: Dirty dishes don’t wash themselves. We had hoped that Daman’s nanny would be able to pitch in, but she is from the old country. She keeps saying he needs to be watched carefully and be prepared for the day he will rule us all. Must be a saying from her home country. Both she and Damian are excited for Halloween. I’m not sure he should be wearing a bloody devil’s face that he says is his real face, but I can still remember the year my mother said I couldn't go as a fairy because they weren't real. This feels like a completely similar situation, and I’m sure I am making the right choice.
November began with a bit of sadness as Damian’s soccer team didn't make the playoffs. All people want to talk about is the opposing team’s coach death under mysterious circumstances. Some people can’t see the forest for the trees. Also, I lost the baby. I tripped over Damian’s tricycle. Well, I mean he was riding it at the time. Riding it at me screaming, “I am the devil and you and the baby must die”. I’m not sure what he meant by that. Probably a metaphor of some sort.
Looking back this has been our year. Perfect in every way. I’m sending this out before the first of December, so I can be sure you will get it. I can’t wait for next year as it should be full of even more positive events. There is no way anything can go wrong. It appears that Damian has prepared me a nice, calming, warm, bathtub filled with gasoline. Whatever did I do to deserve such a caring child?
Sincerely,
Katherine Jennings
Mother of Damian “the world’s greatest angel”
