I’ve never heard my father talk that way. Stern. Forceful. Commanding. A little like a general. It scared me, a bit. He’s an understanding man. A great listener. Compassionate. Reasonable. One who would rather help you see the way than simply tell you which direction to go. I appreciate that about him. It’s a great trait.
But this was different. “OK, just go away,” he said. I think it’s the only time in my life he’s ever spoken like that to me.
Head down, I trudged off. I knew I was doomed.
“And shut the door, please,” my daughter said as I went.
I left her alone in the office. On the computer. Using Skype. With my dad. To talk about … CHRISTMAS PRESENTS!!!
He has been bugging me. Cryptic emails that read, “For your eyes only!” in the subject line, and then Web links to a toy page on Amazon.com. It had specific instructions: “identify the circus ones she most likes and RANK them (and no holding her back, I’ll filter them).”
What does that even mean? Aside from the fact that I have completely lost control. That the mild-mannered man has gone Christmas mad and has every intention of doing whatever he wants. Grandfathers spoil kids. They can buy whatever they want. I’ve learned that now.
For a half hour the two of them chatted back and forth on Skype, wandering through Web page after page as they mulled over various Playmobil sets. I sat in the other room sweating and chewing my nails. “What are they doing in there?!?” I wondered. “Why didn’t I install those security cameras like my wife wanted?!?”
Finally, the door opened and my daughter poked her head out. She sounded like a nurse: “We are ready to see you now.”
I was ushered in, sat before the screen and explained what was going on. Shown a list of toys.
“Are you crazy!” I said. “You can’t buy all that stuff!”
My dad laughed. But it wasn’t his typical jovial laugh. This was a “Godfather” mafia laugh. A “son, this is happening” laugh.
“OK, it’s time for you to go,” my daughter said. “I need to talk to Pop some more.”
And I was shuffled out. More laughter ensued.
“I have lost total control over Christmas,” I muttered, wondering if I will need to add on to the house. Wondering if I would one day do this to my daughter, too.
“Oh, yes!” I thought while making a permanent mental note. One day I will carry on this Christmas tradition with her children. And I’ll have plenty of time to perfect my own crazy-grandfather-mafia-“this-is-happening” laugh for my season of OVER-giving.
In the meantime, Merry Christmas to all!