Dear Kid,

Happy Boxing Day!

Not as in Rocky or Creed (which I enjoyed much more than I thought I would—thank you for “insisting” that we watch the movie together). Rather as in Boxes to Give to People.

The history of Boxing Day goes back to the Middle Ages (as in history, not as in your parents’ age) when the servants all had to work on Christmas so that the upper class (as in the people they worked for) could enjoy the Christmas Holiday without having to, um, work.

The servants were then (sometimes) given the day after Christmas off (after having worked twice as hard to be sure everything was ready for the upper class (as in the people they worked for) as well as working twice as hard the day after Boxing Day to clean up. But they were (often) given Boxing Day off.

And the tradition was that that the merchant class and upper class would take boxes (see where I’m going with this?), fill them with food and gifts, and deliver them to the servants, tradespeople, and other less fortunate types.

Now you know.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

“WOW! This is Fan-TAS-tic! Thank you SO MUCH!!!”

The words gush out as we open presents and they are lovely to hear. Well, they are lovely to hear if the gift giver is in the room. Actually, they are lovely to hear even if the gift giver isn’t in the room, but the gift giver can’t hear the thank you if not present (pun intended).

I really hope you followed that.

Enter: The Thank You Note.

The first Thank You Note was written by Joe Neanderthal. He wrote it to a Saber Tooth Tiger who had generously eaten Joe’s friend Blorg rather than Joe. It looked something like this:

Interestingly, that particular Saber Tooth Tiger never ate Joe. Joe assumed that this was because of the Thank You Note (in reality, it was because Blorg caused the Saber Tooth Tiger to have a very upset stomach from which he died).

From then on, Joe insisted that everyone write thank you notes. Mrs. Joe Neanderthal was so surprised she forgot to be annoyed.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

“What’s in the box?” When the postal service, UPS, or FEDEX brings something to our house, someone inevitably asks about its contents.

Except at this time of year.

Around this time of year there is an unspoken agreement not to ask about packages. Sometimes we pretend we don’t even “see” a box (which might, just might, contain a gift) that has been delivered.

During the rest of the year, curious kids look in bags that have been lugged home. This time of year a quick “not for your eyes” is enough to keep everyone busy elsewhere.

I love that we love surprises. I have never understood the stories about people who search for their presents so they know what they’re getting.

There is an LL Bean commercial (which I have thoughtfully provided for you) that shows gifts wrapped so that there is no question as to what the package contains—yet the recipients look perplexed about the contents. I love that.

I love the moment of anticipation wondering what’s in the box or bag or envelop. I love watching you slowly rip off the wrapping paper to find out. I love/hate when Dad decides to start a monologue (always a looooong monologue) about what the contents of his gift might possibly be (although I kind of love it more when the monologue ends).

Surprises are gifts in and of themselves.

Surprise!

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

‘Tis that time of year when children come home from college (we’re delighted to have you back!), the temperatures are dropping (not so delighted), and weird and unexpected gift ideas are popping up all over.

Last year you did a marvelous job of not buying me the things I asked you never to get me. If you have a burning desire to see a list of things you don’t need to buy for me this year (including bacon bandages, a penis-shaped egg fryer, and a nose shower dispenser) you’ll find the list here.

Gifts are a interesting things. Some gifts are so wonderful they make us cry (I am thinking a specifically of a life size Barbie head to apply makeup to that I was given when I was a wee tot. Over the moon happy. Many tears.). Some gifts are so awful they make us want to weep (I am thinking of days-of-the-week undies I was given as an even smaller wee tot).

Some gifts fall into the “small thought to say I’m thinking of you” category (a cookie, a candy cane, a pair of socks with little hearts on them). Some gifts are about deeper meaning (a contribution made in your name to a favorite charity, a handmade card). Some gifts are full of tradition, and some gifts merely fill up the “Oh, dang! I’ve got to come up with something right now!” category.

All too often we forget how fortunate we are to live in a time and place where we can focus on the non-essential (nose shower dispenser? really?).

What do I want this year? A little bit of time. Time to breathe, time to appreciate, and most of all time to spend with you and Pi.

Love, Mom