I am mostly done shopping, which is a miracle because I refuse to start shopping before my birthday which is precipitously close to Christmas.
My son is going mad not knowing what is in the wrapped boxes under the tree.
He shakes them and weighs them and stares at them and all but moons over them.
Wrapped presents torture my son. He can't eat, he can't sleep. He wakes up in the middle of the night asking if its Christmas eve YET and can he open just ONE box?
In my heart I add this to the TOP of the list of reasons why I don't go gift shopping sooner -- Presents in this house in November might drive this poor child to insanity.
Last night, after a glass of wine, I broke a little bit under his interrogation. I told him this short story about shopping for the BIG gift he didn't ask for, which I've been very clear is NOT an Xbox or Playstation, in a short narrative like this.
I walked into the store (him - what store? what STORE? me - I won't tell you what store, just listen! him- I'm DYING HERE AUUGGGHH) and the guy said can I help you and I said something joking to him, and he gave me a weird look, and I shrugged and as I was leaving the store a few minutes later he came to me and showed me this box and I had to buy it.
Zack doubles over in pain like his appendix is bursting. WHAT DID YOU ASK FOR?
He tries, from there, to get me to tell him more and more but I stonewalled him. Nope. No way, no how. I'm maximizing the investment on this gift and thankful my kids are post-Santa and I don't have to give away credit for the best gifts to a perhaps imaginary man who may/may not show up on Duck Dynasty in a supporting role one day in 2014.
My son moans, he sings, he dances, he wails. He is suffering, truly. What did you ASK for? What did you SAY?
Finally, probably more from wine than from his badgering, I give in a tiny bit and give him a clue by repeating the story with one little addition.
I walked into the store - a store you've never been in, not with me -- and the guy said can I help you and I said these two words and .... and..... he gave me a weird look, and I shrugged and as I was leaving the store a few minutes he came to me and showed me this box and I had to buy it.
My son's eyes light up like he has something but as he processes it out loud he realizes he doesn't.
It's two words? TWO WORDS? Disney World? New House? Pet hamster? THAT DIDN'T HELP!
I pull my son to me and hug him and tell him I know I didn't help him at all, and that I love him.
Two words.
Christmas torture.
You'll see.
My son is going mad not knowing what is in the wrapped boxes under the tree.
He shakes them and weighs them and stares at them and all but moons over them.
Wrapped presents torture my son. He can't eat, he can't sleep. He wakes up in the middle of the night asking if its Christmas eve YET and can he open just ONE box?
In my heart I add this to the TOP of the list of reasons why I don't go gift shopping sooner -- Presents in this house in November might drive this poor child to insanity.
Last night, after a glass of wine, I broke a little bit under his interrogation. I told him this short story about shopping for the BIG gift he didn't ask for, which I've been very clear is NOT an Xbox or Playstation, in a short narrative like this.
I walked into the store (him - what store? what STORE? me - I won't tell you what store, just listen! him- I'm DYING HERE AUUGGGHH) and the guy said can I help you and I said something joking to him, and he gave me a weird look, and I shrugged and as I was leaving the store a few minutes later he came to me and showed me this box and I had to buy it.
Zack doubles over in pain like his appendix is bursting. WHAT DID YOU ASK FOR?
He tries, from there, to get me to tell him more and more but I stonewalled him. Nope. No way, no how. I'm maximizing the investment on this gift and thankful my kids are post-Santa and I don't have to give away credit for the best gifts to a perhaps imaginary man who may/may not show up on Duck Dynasty in a supporting role one day in 2014.
My son moans, he sings, he dances, he wails. He is suffering, truly. What did you ASK for? What did you SAY?
Finally, probably more from wine than from his badgering, I give in a tiny bit and give him a clue by repeating the story with one little addition.
I walked into the store - a store you've never been in, not with me -- and the guy said can I help you and I said these two words and .... and..... he gave me a weird look, and I shrugged and as I was leaving the store a few minutes he came to me and showed me this box and I had to buy it.
It's two words? TWO WORDS? Disney World? New House? Pet hamster? THAT DIDN'T HELP!
I pull my son to me and hug him and tell him I know I didn't help him at all, and that I love him.
Two words.
Christmas torture.
You'll see.
