No, not mine, believe it or not (I haven’t had time to get it laminated just yet). Right now I’m actually thinking of other people, and though I say the exact same thing every year to no different denouement, this time I’m doing my shopping early and mostly online so I can just relax and enjoy the season. I swear.
Being that we’re all in the poor house these days, I’ve decided to make a few gifts, much like I did as a kid, minus the sloppy execution and visible glue. I still remember one of the simplest, and most fun, gifts I ever made my Mom (though I doubt she does). It was one of those classic lined notebooks with the black mottled covers - completely non-descript on the outside (a travesty I would never forgive today, I don’t care how old anyone is) – and I was determined to fill it with little essays.
I started writing in it in November – and each day I wrote a few sentences on a random topic (three-bean-salad, trees, yarn) like our third grade English teacher was having us do (the three-bean-salad was her topic of the day – I didn’t even know what it was so I faked hating it). Yes, this was the kind of crazy fun kid I was – getting off on a third-grade English assignment and turning it into a gift idea for my Mom.
For some strange reason, I hid the book under her bed so she wouldn’t find it. (?!?!) I figured it would be the last place she would look for a present from me – and I guess there’s a strange sort of logic to that, because to my knowledge she never did find it (or, and this is much more likely, she found it and simply didn’t say anything). I think I managed to fill about a quarter of the book with ramblings-on about coffee, colors, flowers, keys, and anything that drifted into the insane quagmire of my third-grade head, and by Christmas morning it was wrapped and under the tree.
While I don’t clearly recall her reaction to such a gift (I’m sure it was dutifully grateful, and I was probably too excited with my own gifts to notice (is that the stuffed unicorn I’ve been begging for?!) but I distinctly recall making the book for her, and hoping she would like it. This year, I’ll be doing the same thing (but don’t worry Mom, it’s not a book).
The bottom line is that this year the gifts are hand-made, so don’t expect much (even though my gluing skills have advanced markedly since the third grade.)
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