We can’t be the only family whose Christmas involves lists of present ideas, can we? I used to love putting a list together when I was young (a relation once pondered how I could possibly know there WERE that many Doctor Who books) and I still rather like it now.
Not that long ago (it seems) we would pester our daughter for a list; now it’s the other way around – even before Halloween, I’d been forced, really forced, to put together some suggestions of what she could get me for Christmas.
She’s in that sweet spot, after the wages start arriving but before too many bills do, and is very organised in the Christmas (and birthdays!) department, and often very generous – I said this evening that I hope she hasn’t gone mad this year, and she assured me (although I remain not assured if I’m honest) that she has not.
At the same time, although we get a list in return, it’s tricky because they’re all things she could easily buy herself, for the exact same ‘sweet spot’ reason. So we try to read between the lines and get something which she will almost certainly like but which she doesn’t appear to be aware of, to try and retain at least some element of surprise.
I’m sure it’s just rose-tinted nostalgia that makes me remember Christmas as being easier when she was little (and is likewise making me forget all the “he’s not been yet it’s only 3am” business, and the sneakiness involved in smuggling goldfish home under your coat during a two hour bus ride); and I’m sure it’s actually better now, when we’re all grown ups (well, ish in my case).
I’m sure it is, yes. For many reasons.
Maybe I should do a list…
Andrew Curnow's Ramblings 