Batteries.
Each year, my mom would buy me AAs for Christmas, and it would feed my Walkman for a few more months. Yes, Walkman — not even a Discman. I’m that old.
And she’d buy me socks, because it was unlikely that I’d bought myself any in the previous year.
I assume my parents bought me the occasional toy for Christmas. My siblings and I accrued a sizable cache of X-Men action figures over the years, and some of those must’ve been gifts.
But I don’t remember the gaudy playthings — the metaphorical Red Ryder BB guns. It’s the dull stuff — batteries and socks — that stuck with me.
I like Christmas, well enough. Both peace on earth and goodwill to men sound appealing to me. But I’m skeptical of “the holiday season” — decorations that go up a little earlier each year, “traditions” that have more to do with commerce than Christ, and gifts that affect our budget more than our emotions.
That’s all to say that I’m ambivalent toward Big Presents.™ So often we expend precious resources on something we expect our children to love and — sing along if you know the words — they just play with the box.
On more than one occasion, my kids have opened a toy on Christmas, handed it back to me, and said, “You can donate it to Toys for Tots.”
Depending on your perspective, that’s either a thoughtful gesture or an absolutely brutal burn.
I should be fair. My wife is excellent at Big Presents.™ She’ll remember an offhand comment you made six months ago and turn it into a present that you treasure. Her mother and sister have that gift, as well.
But here’s the point that I’ve been meandering toward. If you — like myself — struggle with Big Presents™, there’s another option: the loving gesture.
Because I don’t recall the vast majority of things my parents gifted me during Christmas. But I remember my father driving me and my son to the Cincinnati Zoo, so we could see a Sumatran rhino. And I’ll never forget my mother rushing over to watch our kids when I suddenly needed to take my wife to the hospital.
Digging back even farther, the memories of homework help, piano lessons that stretched our budget, and extra hugs have lingered even longer than the X-Men action figures.
And I say all of that so I can offer you this. Christmas, Hanukkah, and all the other gift-giving holidays can be stressful and expensive, and there’s no guarantee that your children won’t lose the Labubu you bought them.
But they’ll always remember the love you give them — on Christmas and every other day…
I mean, they’ll remember it as adults and be retroactively grateful. You didn’t think I appreciated my parents when I was a child, did you? Now that would be a
Christmas miracle.
