Letters to Holly

Tuesday, December 15


When Your Sis and I went window shopping Saturday for maternity items, we also kept Christmas shopping in mind. I told her before we left that I would point out items on my list for her to catalog. The understanding being, I thought, that she could note the items and decide what to buy later. Instead, I pointed out an item, and she picked it up to buy. I was stunned.

"No, wait. It's just a suggestion."
"I know. But you want this, right?"
"For Christmas, yes."
"Right. For Christmas."

Now when I say "for Christmas," I mean "if you're going to buy it for me, don't let me see it." I like Christmas gifts as surprises. That's why we wrap them. But she refused to put it back.

"When am I going to get a chance to be here again to buy it?"
"Dude. Amazon."

A few hours later, at another store, I showed her an item I had considered to get her. I showed her some options to leave the mystery. The final specific item would be a surprise. Instead (again) she picked one out and carried it to the register. More stunnage.

This isn't how I do Christmas. So now, I'm gonna ambush her with whatever strikes my jolly-elf fancy. Christmas should be a mix of surprise, joy, and gratitude. It's date-specific altruism.

When I arrived home last night, Your Sister had just returned from more Christmas shopping. As she recounted her day, she said "oh, and I bought [those other items] you asked for." Super stunnage.

"OK, please. If you're buying me anything else for Christmas, don't tell me what it is. Please."

Maybe it's the pregnancy. She didn't do this before.

Picture of the Day
Line forms on the right.

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