I use to love buying presents almost as much as I did getting them. Not any more. I now hate getting them almost as much as I do buying them. What has happened over the year to us? Is it just age?
Is it consumerism gone mad? Have we lost something really special? Remember how it felt to write to Santa Claus, daring to reveal your gut-wrenching desire for a Treasure Island, or Barbie's caravan.
You wanted this so badly that you actually needed it. You were convinced that your life would not be the same without it. You prayed every night that your parents would pick up the hints you dropped every time you passed in front of the shop window. On shopping expeditions, as you got closer to the shop, you would start to slow down and drag your feet, so that by the time you were at the window, you were at a standstill. Never mind that there were six other people peering in, you would duck and slide and slip through their legs until your nose was up against the glass, and you could not see in because you were misting it up.
Look at it. So beautiful. The most beautiful thing you had ever seen. You could imagine all days ahead filled with the joy of taking all the bits out and putting them all back again. By then, your mother will have realized that she had lost you and panic ensues. By the time she finds you, so mesmerized that you did not hear half a dozen people call your name, she is so relieved that she is frothing at the mouth. All your entreaties to go in and have a quick look are in vain. You get a few fingernails digging deep into your shoulder and a hissed "Don't you dare do that again".
So you write to Santa and on Christmas Day, well at one minute past midnight, you sneak out and find a brand new tricycle. It is a lovely tricycle, with colored ribbons hanging off the handlebars, and a basket with a lid, and reflecting bits on the wheels. It is perfect except for one small detail. It is not a Barbie caravan. You weep, you sulk, you whine. Ungrateful so and so.
The years pass and you become the giver of dreams. It is easy to sneak a look into the letter to Santa before it gets posted, but then what? What when none of the shops anywhere has the ultimate gift. The marketing boffins do all they can. I can order from mail-order catalogs and have them delivered home. I can order from Amazon and have them in November. But there will always be that moment when the child opens the present and you see that glimmer of disappointment. It doesn't matter how much you spend. It doesn't matter how well you have coordinated the wrapping paper and ribbon.
All that matters is that it is not something else, something that you would never ever have thought of. We tried to come up with a better plan. We buy the presents for our kids and they buy the presents for theirs and then we swop them. But it still doesn't feel the same. It is too tempting to buy practical things for your own kids: clothes, and scarves, and books that you would probably have bought them anyway. Only aunts buy things that are silly, that are not strictly speaking educational, that make noise, that need batteries.... To make things more complicated, kids want things now, today, now this very minute, and not at Christmas.
What fun is it to get a skateboard in August, and just a reminder at Christmas? And so many things kinds want are ridiculously expensive. Is there really any magic when you say "Don't forget they you got your present for your birthday and Christmas?" And as for getting presents... It is my fault.
I don't write to Santa any more. I can't remember the last time that I yearned for something so much that it hurt. Life is like that. You yearn for the oddest things as you get older: half and hour with nothing to do, a telephone call from a friend you haven't heard from in ages, a cuddle from your teenage son. Sure, I look into shop windows some times and think "Oh, I'd love to have that!" but I usually either forget about it or just buy it for myself. It's sad though. Something is missing. I wonder what I will do this year. Maybe I should just buy myself that Barbie caravan...
Source: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1285245/all_i_dont_want_for_christmas.html?page=2&cat=9
Is it consumerism gone mad? Have we lost something really special? Remember how it felt to write to Santa Claus, daring to reveal your gut-wrenching desire for a Treasure Island, or Barbie's caravan.
You wanted this so badly that you actually needed it. You were convinced that your life would not be the same without it. You prayed every night that your parents would pick up the hints you dropped every time you passed in front of the shop window. On shopping expeditions, as you got closer to the shop, you would start to slow down and drag your feet, so that by the time you were at the window, you were at a standstill. Never mind that there were six other people peering in, you would duck and slide and slip through their legs until your nose was up against the glass, and you could not see in because you were misting it up.
Look at it. So beautiful. The most beautiful thing you had ever seen. You could imagine all days ahead filled with the joy of taking all the bits out and putting them all back again. By then, your mother will have realized that she had lost you and panic ensues. By the time she finds you, so mesmerized that you did not hear half a dozen people call your name, she is so relieved that she is frothing at the mouth. All your entreaties to go in and have a quick look are in vain. You get a few fingernails digging deep into your shoulder and a hissed "Don't you dare do that again".
So you write to Santa and on Christmas Day, well at one minute past midnight, you sneak out and find a brand new tricycle. It is a lovely tricycle, with colored ribbons hanging off the handlebars, and a basket with a lid, and reflecting bits on the wheels. It is perfect except for one small detail. It is not a Barbie caravan. You weep, you sulk, you whine. Ungrateful so and so.
The years pass and you become the giver of dreams. It is easy to sneak a look into the letter to Santa before it gets posted, but then what? What when none of the shops anywhere has the ultimate gift. The marketing boffins do all they can. I can order from mail-order catalogs and have them delivered home. I can order from Amazon and have them in November. But there will always be that moment when the child opens the present and you see that glimmer of disappointment. It doesn't matter how much you spend. It doesn't matter how well you have coordinated the wrapping paper and ribbon.
All that matters is that it is not something else, something that you would never ever have thought of. We tried to come up with a better plan. We buy the presents for our kids and they buy the presents for theirs and then we swop them. But it still doesn't feel the same. It is too tempting to buy practical things for your own kids: clothes, and scarves, and books that you would probably have bought them anyway. Only aunts buy things that are silly, that are not strictly speaking educational, that make noise, that need batteries.... To make things more complicated, kids want things now, today, now this very minute, and not at Christmas.
What fun is it to get a skateboard in August, and just a reminder at Christmas? And so many things kinds want are ridiculously expensive. Is there really any magic when you say "Don't forget they you got your present for your birthday and Christmas?" And as for getting presents... It is my fault.
I don't write to Santa any more. I can't remember the last time that I yearned for something so much that it hurt. Life is like that. You yearn for the oddest things as you get older: half and hour with nothing to do, a telephone call from a friend you haven't heard from in ages, a cuddle from your teenage son. Sure, I look into shop windows some times and think "Oh, I'd love to have that!" but I usually either forget about it or just buy it for myself. It's sad though. Something is missing. I wonder what I will do this year. Maybe I should just buy myself that Barbie caravan...
Source: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1285245/all_i_dont_want_for_christmas.html?page=2&cat=9
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