Every year around this time, it happens. I get asked for Christmas lists. As much as I loathe writing a list of gift ideas for our little family (and, oh, I LOATHE it), I do understand the need. I get that it's nice to be sure that a gift will be wanted and blah, blah, blah, I just hate that I feel like I'm demanding that people buy me stuff. Which, um, no. I'd almost rather get nothing than have to produce a list.
Regardless, every year around this time, I play along with the list game. I email the husband and ask for his portion. Every year he takes the path of annoying and gives me a list I can't work with, but whatever. Eventually, I manage to yank something useful out of him.
Every year around this time, I put together my list. It is basically the same each time--Boyd's plush ornaments, a Hallmark motion ornament, Christmas decorations, and camera stuff. It's all the stuff that I want but won't buy for myself. Easy enough.
And then there's Alexis. For the first few years of her life, I declared myself Supreme Ruler and Boss of Everything and just picked stuff based on what I thought she would like and which wouldn't make me crazy. Last year was the first year she had any sort of opinion in the whole thing, which was fine because she did a good job. It was better than fine, actually, because she's pretty much the only person who knows what she already has. I could stand in the Barbie aisle for an hour and not know what she does or doesn't have, but she can point out that she already has the Barbie with blue eyes and blond hair that's wearing a purple tank top, jeans, pink shoes, and has a pink butterfly tramp stamp on her back. I probably just described 98% of the Barbie population, but that's EXACTLY why I need the kid to say what she wants. Only she knows what's currently buried in her playroom.
So this year I turned to Alexis and asked her for some ideas. She told me it was a secret. "Fine," I replied. "Can you circle what you want in this catalog so Santa has some ideas?" I continued as I handed her the Target toy flyer.
She circled two things. Two things that even *I* know she already has.
SO. HELPFUL.
I went back to her and asked once again what she would like. Again she refused to tell me. Again I reminded her that Santa needs a little help here. She refused and refused and refused to give me even the slightest idea. Finally, after tons of prodding, she turned to me and said, "Momma, what I want for Christmas is between me and Santa."
Well, then.
