What do I want for Christmas? Peace on Earth and good will toward men.
Now stop asking!
It’s that time of year when family starts calling. Starts emailing. Starts prodding. Starts employing ESP on us. All in order to spirit away gift ideas, mainly for the resident 5-year-old.
When they fail to get answers from us through regular means — like guilt and veiled threats (“If you don’t tell me what she wants, I’ll get her bagpipes. Yeah! Bringing out the heavy guns.”) they send retired tax collectors out for us. Bloodhounds. Second tier mafia hitmen. Wiretap experts. Anyone. All in search of gift answers.
It becomes maddening.
Here’s an email from my dad (edited so the children don’t have to leave the room): “O.k., Santa slackers, give me a heads up on your plan: I’ve got to ‘coordinate’ the Xmas gift wish list … I need someone to just commit! … ALSO: need ideas for Elf Brian and Elf Nancy, or I’m going to get you last year’s stale fruitcake!”
That was before he called me at work … twice.
He’s threatening legal action if we don’t give up more gift ideas. I just got a subpoena as he tries to figure out the name of American Girl stuffed animal we’ve been holding out on.
My mother is worse.
She operates on the Principle of Threes: She suggests one item, I counter with a second suggestion, we agree … and then she goes out and buys a third un-discussed item.
“What happened to the one we talked about?” I cry over the phone.
“I decided this one was better,” she replies. “Now what about …”
Others pitch ideas. Dig for clues. Send haunted owls to enchant us into talking.
My kid basks in all this attention. It’s great to be the only child, and I’m not just talking about in my little family unit.
I’m talking only child within a four or five state radius.
That means lots of grandparents with money to burn. Lots of aunts and uncles who see giving my kid toys as much more convenient, not to mention cheaper, than having kids of their own.
And lots of pressure on us to manage it all, divvying out gift ideas to avoid an avalanche of toys, stuffed animals and other assorted thingamajiggies hanging on racks screaming to be bought
“So why did you think a full-size electric guitar with a built-in daiquiri maker would be good for a 5-year-old?!?”
The kid has gotten wise to it all. Last year handed her a catalog and told her to circle a couple of things she might want if someone — Santa, a family member, Donald Trump — was looking for ideas. She would study carefully and use a Crayon to circle things she spent time musing over.
This year she took the catalogs, handed them back and said, “Yes, thank you.”
That’s kid code for: “One of each, please, and two of the really expensive ones.”
It’s no easier that her birthday comes the day after Christmas. Or that we don’t put a huge priority on gifts. We give her simple things like river stones and sticks from the yard. We try to teach her to appreciate what she gets. We try to teach others this, too.
That’s why we require an application for any gift idea before a family member is allowed to buy it. It involves a credit check, two in-person interviews, a full review of the item online and more red tape than if you decided to build a nuclear reactor in your backyard.
But still, things get through. People get through. They have too many tools at their disposal. Too many spies. Too many haunted owls. Outmanned and outgunned, we’re throwing in the towel this year.
Peace on Earth and good will toward men … until next year. Next year we’ll be ready for them, and all of their spies, too.