with her floury
fingers, and I’d wipe it away. I’d loved it when she’d finally sat
me on the stool with the big bowl, smeared with remains of the cake
mix. It was a real treat when she allowed me to scrape it all out
with my finger and suck it. It was sweet, sticky and delicious and
I’d been even happier to find the odd stray raisin in there to chew
on. She’d put the radio on and we’d listened to Christmas songs all
day. I loved to hear her sing, she had a beautiful voice, she
sounded just like I imagined an angel would. She’d laughed when I’d
joined in and had kissed my forehead telling me that I had a lovely
voice too. I think she lies to me sometimes, which is very naughty.
Dad always tells me “You shouldn’t tell lies son.” It was one of
his strictest rules. At school I’m always pushed to the back row in
assembly and told to keep my voice down when we’re singing. They
don’t think I have a lovely voice, I’ve seen the looks everyone
gives me. Today though I hadn’t cared, Mum loved it when I sang, so
I’d sung even louder and enjoyed seeing her big smile.
Sitting in the lounge now
though, I’m barely listening to the story that she’s telling me. I
just can’t tear my eyes away from the tall twinkling tree and all
the presents underneath it.
‘Gabriel, are you even
listening to me?’ Her laughter was rich and warm, warmer than the
deep orange fire hissing and crackling in the grate. I looked up at
her sparkling bright blue eyes. Mum was so pretty with her long
brown hair and dimpled smile. She smiled a lot, especially when she
looked at me or my dad. ‘I do love you, Gabriel. You’re so handsome
my blond, blue eyed boy,’ she whispered, as she deposited a tender
kiss on my forehead. ‘Just like your father. You’re going to be
such a heart breaker when you grow up, you know that?’
‘No.’ I shook my head, I had no
idea what she meant. How could I break hearts? ‘Mum, please can I
open a present now?’ I pleaded.
‘No, you know the rules, no
presents until tomorrow,’ she smiled.
‘But I want one now,’ I moaned
as I stroked her swollen belly. I liked doing that, sometimes it
would move and she’d laugh and tell me it was my brother or sister
trying to hold hands with me. Mum kept telling me what a great big
brother I was going to make. I was so looking forward to having
someone to play with.
‘Gabriel, don’t be so naughty.
No means no,’ she said firmly as she gave me a stern look. I pulled
out my bottom lip and looked at her from under my creased brow.
‘Don’t even think of pulling a tantrum my darling, because it won’t
work on me.’
‘Mum you’re so mean ,’ I
whined. I knew I was being childish, I was supposed to be all grown
up at eight years old, but I was frustrated. ‘All my other friends
get to open a present early.’ I pushed her arm off me, got up and
walked to the tree. I wanted to have one now too. I knew there was
a Beyblade in there somewhere, so what if it was a day early? What
was the big deal?
‘Gabriel Austin, this behaviour
isn’t like you. Don’t you dare touch those presents,’ she warned. I
scowled at her as she pointed a long slim finger at me.
‘ Mum ,’ I groaned. I knew
the signs, this was when she was about to get really cross with me.
It didn’t happen often, as I was usually a good boy, but when she
did point her finger it was a sign of an early bedtime with no hot
drink and chunk of chocolate first. Today though, I didn’t care. So
I ignored her, picked one up and shook it. Dad would have
understood if he’d been down here, he knew how much I wanted a
Beyblade, but he was in his study, again . Dad was always in
his study lately and he never had the time to play with me anymore.
I felt angry all of a sudden, my friends told me that they all
spent Christmas Eve playing games with their parents and having
fun, then they were allowed to pick one present to open before they
went to bed and hung up their stockings. I
fingers, and I’d wipe it away. I’d loved it when she’d finally sat
me on the stool with the big bowl, smeared with remains of the cake
mix. It was a real treat when she allowed me to scrape it all out
with my finger and suck it. It was sweet, sticky and delicious and
I’d been even happier to find the odd stray raisin in there to chew
on. She’d put the radio on and we’d listened to Christmas songs all
day. I loved to hear her sing, she had a beautiful voice, she
sounded just like I imagined an angel would. She’d laughed when I’d
joined in and had kissed my forehead telling me that I had a lovely
voice too. I think she lies to me sometimes, which is very naughty.
Dad always tells me “You shouldn’t tell lies son.” It was one of
his strictest rules. At school I’m always pushed to the back row in
assembly and told to keep my voice down when we’re singing. They
don’t think I have a lovely voice, I’ve seen the looks everyone
gives me. Today though I hadn’t cared, Mum loved it when I sang, so
I’d sung even louder and enjoyed seeing her big smile.
Sitting in the lounge now
though, I’m barely listening to the story that she’s telling me. I
just can’t tear my eyes away from the tall twinkling tree and all
the presents underneath it.
‘Gabriel, are you even
listening to me?’ Her laughter was rich and warm, warmer than the
deep orange fire hissing and crackling in the grate. I looked up at
her sparkling bright blue eyes. Mum was so pretty with her long
brown hair and dimpled smile. She smiled a lot, especially when she
looked at me or my dad. ‘I do love you, Gabriel. You’re so handsome
my blond, blue eyed boy,’ she whispered, as she deposited a tender
kiss on my forehead. ‘Just like your father. You’re going to be
such a heart breaker when you grow up, you know that?’
‘No.’ I shook my head, I had no
idea what she meant. How could I break hearts? ‘Mum, please can I
open a present now?’ I pleaded.
‘No, you know the rules, no
presents until tomorrow,’ she smiled.
‘But I want one now,’ I moaned
as I stroked her swollen belly. I liked doing that, sometimes it
would move and she’d laugh and tell me it was my brother or sister
trying to hold hands with me. Mum kept telling me what a great big
brother I was going to make. I was so looking forward to having
someone to play with.
‘Gabriel, don’t be so naughty.
No means no,’ she said firmly as she gave me a stern look. I pulled
out my bottom lip and looked at her from under my creased brow.
‘Don’t even think of pulling a tantrum my darling, because it won’t
work on me.’
‘Mum you’re so mean ,’ I
whined. I knew I was being childish, I was supposed to be all grown
up at eight years old, but I was frustrated. ‘All my other friends
get to open a present early.’ I pushed her arm off me, got up and
walked to the tree. I wanted to have one now too. I knew there was
a Beyblade in there somewhere, so what if it was a day early? What
was the big deal?
‘Gabriel Austin, this behaviour
isn’t like you. Don’t you dare touch those presents,’ she warned. I
scowled at her as she pointed a long slim finger at me.
‘ Mum ,’ I groaned. I knew
the signs, this was when she was about to get really cross with me.
It didn’t happen often, as I was usually a good boy, but when she
did point her finger it was a sign of an early bedtime with no hot
drink and chunk of chocolate first. Today though, I didn’t care. So
I ignored her, picked one up and shook it. Dad would have
understood if he’d been down here, he knew how much I wanted a
Beyblade, but he was in his study, again . Dad was always in
his study lately and he never had the time to play with me anymore.
I felt angry all of a sudden, my friends told me that they all
spent Christmas Eve playing games with their parents and having
fun, then they were allowed to pick one present to open before they
went to bed and hung up their stockings. I
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