The Princess has brought to my attention in a marked manner the first draft of her letter to Santa. As, they say in letters of note, transcript follows below.
Headed on each page: Important
Dear Santa,
Over the years you have kept our family well supplied with treats. But do you realize [sic] that the sweets you graciously send are cruelly snatched away straight after mass? And used for the abominable treat-only-if-you-eat-dinner regime? I am not complaining too much about this regime for it has yielded excellent results for me. Except for one thing it is: I slave away for hours eating every single morsal [sic] on my plate whereas the boys take two bites of rice, make a tragic face and are told good boys well done for trying because of the fact that have been reaping more than they deserve. I demand that you send a quarter of their sweets into my stocking! No half! No half seems less the the fair amount for my suffering but I suppose it’s the season of goodwill. Please take into mind that if you do not want to transfer the goods I deserve into my stocking I will be perfectly happy for you to double my sweets and leave the boy’s [sic] sweets alone. This is an urgent matter!
I would also like for you to bear in mind that I shall try to bring some of your gifts onto an aeroplane so please try to make them below five kilo grams. I am sure this will not be a problem for someone of your prowess yet I feel it prudent to warn you. I have tried to make the items on my list light but sometimes you get the wrong end of the stick confused.
She may be prone to the odd AmericaniZm but her hypenation is impeccable and her vigilance against cliché admirable. When the Princess becomes queen it will surely be an absolute monarchy.
She’s very funny and very articulate. Just imagine what she will be like as a teenager.
The princess clearly follows the OED on the matter of ‘-ize’ spellings.
Better start saving for her law school tuition now…
With that handwriting I’d say her best option is the medical profession.
Yes, Praxis, that’s what I’m afraid of. And, of course, Dot, the teenage years do fill me with mild terror. Disgruntled, I knew, there was an explanation.
Heather, fees here aren’t what they are in America, which is just as well, frankly.
Ellen, yes, handwriting is not her long suit. She’s a left hander and rough drafts tend to be, well, rough. Medicine beckons…
If she’s a lefty, teaching her italic handwriting might work out cheaper than med school (though perhaps less lucrative in the long term). My long-suffering mother sat down and taught me calligraphy in an attempt to cure my ‘hook’. I still write with a hook, but my handwriting is at least legible. And I can still remember all the little ditties she wrote down for me to copy as part of the learning process…
Oh Mr. Waffle does calligraphy, perhaps that could be useful…
Brava, Princess, for spelling ‘realize’ correctly. Now, let’s work on color and honor and all the other ‘-ize’ and ‘-or’ words.