Sometimes the unwanted gifts are the most difficult to endure. Um. Especially if they're pink...
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Living the Life of Holly |
Column # 156 Wishing
for an Un-Pink Chanukah |
| Sometimes the unwanted gifts are the most difficult to endure. Um. Especially if they're pink... |
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www.livingthelifeofholly.com “Remember, we only need a present for Baby-Carl. That Christmas ornament you’ve slotted for him isn’t appropriate.” I said as I swooped up an oversized, fluorescent fish to accompany our journey through the toy store. Cause. I mean. Maybe the fish could help us pick out the perfect gift for a two-year-old boy, right? Within moments I was surrounded by tiny girls who were summonsed by the magnetic pull of the stuffed fish. “Can I touch it?” “It’s so pretty.” “What’s his name?” I turned to Cool-guy. “Look. Four-year-old girls love this.” “But. We don’t NEED it. We already have a gift for Amy.” He curiously picked up a makeup kit packaged for young kids and was instantly surrounded by hypnotized little girls entranced by his selection. “How old are you?” I asked a set of bouncy pigtails who appeared to be about the target height. “Six.” “Honey?” I asked Cool-guy. “Do you think the toy store is paying kids to be enthusiastic about the expensive toys we’re considering? “Don’t know. But. I’m getting this kit. Katie’ll love to fill the little pink purse with glitter makeup.” “I know. But. We came to buy something for Baby-Carl. We can’t give him that leftover Christmas ornament for a Chanukah party. Especially if we’re giving his sisters such great stuff.” “Lynn and Stan won’t care.” “All the gifts will be big, or all the gifts will be small. You choose.” We walked around the store picking up toy after toy. But. There were no two-year-old boys lured by the gravitational pull of our choices to reassure us that we had astounding good taste. We felt lost without the reinforcement. After numerous turns around the two-year-old boy isle, we settled on a stuffed dog in a cage. We wrapped Chanukah wrapping paper around each present and packed the lot into the car. Now each kid would have a big present and a little present to open. Oh. I know. It was excessive. But. It’s so easy to splurge on too many gifts for little kids. (Especially when he’s paying.) “YOU BROUGHT BIG PRESENTS!” The kids yelled as we walked into their house. “Where should we put them?” “Stick them under the tree for now.” Lynn said. “We’ll open them after dinner.” Cool-guy pressed his fingers into my arm. “Holly wouldn’t believe that you would have a Christmas tree at a Chanukah party.” She laughed. “Well. We celebrate everything around here.” Cool-guy patted the toy receipt in his pocket. “Everything, Holly. They celebrate EVERYTHING.” I kissed his cheek. “Carl will like the dog much better. Why would a two-year-old want an ornament?” “CAN WE OPEN THEM NOW? PLEASE? PLEASE? PLEASE?” “Nope.” Lynn said. “Dad hasn’t come home from work yet, and we have to wait for Uncle too. We’ll open presents after dinner.” We sat around the kitchen counter eating smoked salmon and cheese and veggies. Carl did a trick that only a small child could get away with. He disappeared for a few minutes then reappeared holding his unwrapped present. “Dank ou. Dank ou.” He said, giving Cool-guy and me both hugs. “Dank ou all-bodys.” Everyone laughed. “Smart guy.” Cool-guy said. “How did you know which present was yours?” “Dank ou.” Carl said, petting the dog. “Please?” Amy begged. “After dinner.” “Pretty, pretty please?” Katie pleaded. “Our presents want to play with us.” “After dinner.” When everyone arrived, we sat down to a beautiful table. “Daddy. Are you ready to tell the story of Chanukah?” Katie asked in her grown-up voice. She turned to me. “Daddy always tells the stories.” “I don’t know.” He joked. “Not sure I know the Chanukah story.” “YOU DON’T KNOW THE STORY OF CHANUKAH?” Katie shouted. Amy cut in. “You don’t know the story? And you’re Jewish? Oh. Dad. Oh. Dad. Oh. Dad. How could that happen?” “This is the worst day in my life.” Katie said, hanging her head in her hands. “My dad doesn’t know the story of Chanukah.” Everybody laughed. “Well.” Lynn suggested. “Maybe you girls could remind him of the story.” “Dad. Remember. The oil that kept burning? And the candles that didn’t go out? Remember Dad?” “And. Remember it was a miracle?” “Oh. Yeah. NOW I remember. Thanks girls.” Dad laughed. “I feel whole and complete now. Thanks for reminding me. The moment the last bite was eaten, the girls reached for the closest gift. Uncle gave each girl a pair of pink biking gloves. Katie wasn’t impressed. “Oh. I forgot to tell you. I don’t like pink.” She said, throwing the gloves to the far corner of the room.” “KATIE.” Lynn whispered quickly into her daughter’s ear. “Thanks Uncle.” She kissed his cheek. “You didn’t know I didn’t like pink.” Everyone laughed. Lynn sighed. Uncle brought Carl a little hockey set. Carl clapped as Uncle worked setting up the goals. Carl picked up a hockey stick and started clobbering the coffee table, the Christmas tree, his sisters. Dad dropped a ball in front of him and Carl accidentally hit it. “EXCELLENT.” Dad and Uncle yelled. “Hit it again!” Katie and Amy excitedly tore into the gifts we had brought. Amy got the fish open first. She held her breath as she examined her prize. “It’s big. It’s glittery. It has big lips.” She said, in a soft voice. “It’s almost as big as I am. I love it.” She hugged it to her and stumbled around the room with her view blocked. Katie opened the makeup set. She stared at it without moving and started hyperventilating. I-can’t-believe-it.” She gasped. “My-own-glitter-makeup?” She opened the box and immediately got to work pulling out the pieces. Carl saw the little pink purse that Katie had flung out of the way. “Backpack.” He said as he tottered over. He smiled a big smile. “Backpack.” He dragged the hockey stick behind him and picked up the purse. “Backpack!” Dad was still in a hockey mood. “Carl. Come on. Let’s play hockey.” He hit his stick against the floor. “Backpack!” Carl smiled as he dropped the hockey stick and added a piece of glitter makeup to the purse from the pink throwaways that Katie had moved to the outer perimeter of her circle. “Our backpack.” Dad couldn’t believe it. “Carl. Drop the purse. Pick up the hockey stick. Carl. Drop the purse.” Carl dropped the hockey stick and teetered over to Cool-guy. He held the purse up to him. “Dank ou. Dank ou. Backpack!” Cool-guy laughed. “Don’t you want to play hockey?” Dad sat on the couch banging his hockey stick against the floor. “That’s it, Cool-guy. You give my son a purse for Chanukah?” Cool-guy laughed. “Actually I brought him a Christmas ornament.” “Well. Where is it?” Carl opened the ornament. “Dank ou. Dank ou.” He put the ornament into the purse and carried it into the kitchen.” Dad yelled from the living room. “Carl. Drop the purse. Pick up the hockey stick. Carl, drop the pink purse.” Katie looked up. “Dad. Do you want me to give him all of my pink makeup? You know I don’t like pink. I don’t mind sharing.” Everyone laughed. “No. I think I’ll let my son carry a pink
purse with a Christmas ornament in it at our Chanukah party. That’s
enough excitement for me. But thanks for offering, honey.” Don't miss out! Sign up to receive a free copy of Holly's column via e-mail each week. (All e-mail addresses are private... NEVER, EVER shared.) Or send a blank e-mail to Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com Subject: Subscribe Me. Comment on this column in The Forum Or Send Holly your comments. Tell her what you really think! Your comments might be published on her website, or in her weekly Yahoo Group e-mail. Send Comments Wanna vote for your favorite column? Fan's favorite column picks will be added to the Fan's Favorite Five page. Send your pick for your favorite here. Fan's Favorite Column Pick Copyright © 2003 by Holly Winter |
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