Jayne Dowle: Thankless task of writing to the relatives

I realise it is only four days since they dragged you out of bed at dawn and ripped all that careful wrapping paper to shreds, but in my experience, it is best to get this one over and done with as soon as possible.

My advice, for what it is worth, might be helpful for all those parents who have given up on forcing their children to express their thanks with pen and paper.

Almost a third of mums and dads polled for some timely festive survey by a parenting website said that they wouldn’t dream of commanding – or even cajoling – their offspring to drop whatever they are doing to write thank-you letters.

I know I shouldn’t be shocked, but I am. I can’t believe that we are allowing the art of saying thank-you to die without so much as a whimper. It’s just not the same to send a text, especially to my mother, who doesn’t do texts. Or to my mother-in-law, who doesn’t even have a mobile phone.

It’s not the same to offer up a yelled and dutiful “thank you” over the landline, especially if the kids are in the middle of watching The 100 Greatest Boo-Boos Involving Cats and Dogs or whatever else it is they are engrossed in.

Half the time, they don’t even register who is on the other end of the phone, never mind remember what gift was so carefully and painstakingly selected and wrapped and sent to them.

No, making them write a proper thank-you note makes them think carefully about what they have received and about who sent it. It’s not fussy manners, it is basic human decency and respect. Although, let’s be fair. Human interaction is a constant series of trade-offs, and the sooner they learn that, the better.

When my two are rolling their eyes at having to compose a few appropriately personal lines, I pull no punches. “Aunty XXXX sent you £20. Say thank you properly or she won’t send you it again. And in years to come, if you don’t be nice, she might leave all her money to the cats’ home.”

I find this usually focuses their mind on the job. However, that said, I cannot, hand on heart, argue that they are paragons of virtue. Although Lizzie, who is six, is rather more enthusiastic than her brother, nine-year-old Jack.

Give her some paper, craft bits and felt-tip pens and she will design you a beautiful card. The problem is, she is a true craftswoman. She specialises in one-offs. Once she has done that one, she is bored and wanders off to find random stuff on YouTube.

Jack, it would be no understatement to say, hates doing thank-you letters with a passion bordering on the pathological. It’s not just thank-yous. It is the simple act of picking up a pen and writing anything that makes him squirm and complain and generally kick off. Apologies, on this note, to all his classmates. He decided this year that he wasn’t sending any Christmas cards. And at nine years old, I’m not writing them for him, no way. He does like you, honestly. He’s just rubbish.

A bit of me admires his chutzpah. I could never be so brave. I am a committed card sender. At Christmas the list hits triple figures, but I have a big box with a suitable missive for any occasion, including thank-yous, of course. If austerity really begins to bite next year, I’m thinking of setting up a stall to flog them all.

There must be at least a hundred pounds-worth in there, collected from shops and markets and charity fairs with the magpie zeal of an obsessive. Some I have had for 10 years or more, waiting for that perfect occasion. If I don’t sell them in desperation, they will probably still be there in 2022.

So my kids don’t get this thank-you phobia from their mother. But I hope neither of them is reading this because it seems that their suspicions about me being a hopelessly ancient old-fashioned raving eccentric are true. Apparently, younger parents are the worst at enforcing the habit.

Those under 30, the research found, are nearly twice as likely to let their kids off writing those dreaded notes. But never fear. Riding to the rescue as an unlikely champion of the formal thank-you is the one and only Victoria Beckham.

According to her mate, the supermodel Heidi Klum, Mr and Mrs B get their brood to write thank-you notes on their own headed paper. Headed paper? I’m not organised enough to obtain any of that for myself, never mind for the kids. But if saying thank-you properly impresses David Beckham, then perhaps it might start to impress our Jack. Whether it will impress all those parents who are content to let it slide until it becomes a lost art altogether, like sock-darning and making compilation tapes for the car, remains to be seen.