Parenting is a Journey
An Adventure of Discovery Not Only of our Children But of Ourselves as Well
I’m about to start the annual holiday dance with my family concerning what they should buy me.
Men say that and people don’t believe it. I don’t know why. If I really want something — and can afford it — I’d buy it for myself. If I can’t afford it, my wife and kids can’t either (you know, it’s that community property/everyone’s money thing), therefore, I don’t want them to buy it.
Seems pretty sensible. And it never works.
My best holiday memories have nothing to do with stuff ... except, of course, 1978, when I got Coleco football and Earth Wind & Fire’s Greatest Hits the same morning. That was a great day. I loved opening presents and all, but you get older, you have kids and it becomes about them.
At least until they open a present, take one look at the scooter they just had to have and toss it aside to open the next box.
Then you vow the holidays are about to become about washing dad’s car and doing dishes.
But because we do this dance every year, I’m trying to figure out some things I can ask my family for that don’t involve buying me another T-shirt (their fallback gift, which is fine ... now that I have 5,238 T-shirts emblazoned with the logo of a sports franchise or a quote of something else someone deemed witty).
I realize a pet alligator is probably illegal, and Super Bowl tickets and airfare are out of the question. So I’ll do my best to be a tad more realistic.