Hello! Because of other commitments I haven’t had the time to publish a blog in the past month or so. Life, college and work have been getting in the way. I have lots of ideas just finding the time put them down on paper is difficult at the moment. Today I returned books to the library and then decided to spend some time doing a little research for an assignment. I was really productive for the first hour or so and then I remembered something funny from my childhood and decided to put pen to paper. The following saga tumbled on to the page in front of me. I hope you enjoy it! I’ve always loved the magical feeling that arrives around this time each year. From as early as I can remember Christmas was a much celebrated family holiday in the Byrne household. Weeks of preparation went into getting ready for the big day. Stephens’s day was spent with my Mum’s sisters and brothers and their kids. I have always believed in the magic that is Santa Claus and love the excitement that having young kids in the house adds to the run up to Christmas day.
So, image the horrible feeling I got the other morning when my adorable ten year old decided to announce over breakfast that she no longer believes in Santa! Thankfully her little brother, who’s eight, didn’t hear. I nodded in his direction and mouthed dramatically in her direction “Well, he does, shhhhhhh”! Then in a low voice I continued to tell her that I did too and her dad nodded in agreement. Sensing the end of an era I asked her to keep it to herself. Looking at me as if I was a mad woman she went on to inform me that she knew we bought the goodies each year. Trying frantically to gain time I told her as matter of factly as I could that I didn’t have the spare cash to buy a new pair of knickers at the moment never mind an iPod and a bicycle. She paused for a second and quickly told us “she was only joking”.
Ah, only joking! The phrase that got me and my sister out of countless scraps. One incident in particular springs to mind. When I was about five or six my sister decided I was old enough to hear a few home truths. She took it upon herself to explain to me that I was adopted. Not only were Mum and Dad not my Mum and Dad but they had wanted a boy. Yes, Mary and Brian as I was to call them from now on, had got up one morning and decided they would love a little brother for my sis. They set off one morning to the orphanage in search of a little boy, as you do! Unfortunately there were no boys left. There was just me. Mary and Brian being the kind people they were didn’t want to leave me there alone. They decided to take me home with them even though they had had their hearts set on a boy. Instead of getting the brother she had always wanted my sister was saddled with me. Huge disappointment all round.
My loving sister suggested that now I knew the full story I should really stop calling Mary and Brian Mum and Dad and really call them by their names. Gullible me took her word for it and spent the next few days calling Mum and Dad Mary and Brian. They thought it was just a phase and passed no remarks hoping it would pass like my imaginary friend did. Eventually I spilled the beans. I told them that I knew the truth and that they didn’t need to pretend, that my lovely sister had explained everything to me. They looked confused and asked what had she explained. That I was adopted of course! Confusion gave way to relieved laughter and then to them summoning sis for a chat. She was given a stern talking to and asked what she had been thinking? Her reply, “I was only joking”!