I never know what to get middle grandson for Christmas. When you only see someone once a year, at most, and he's 14, it's hard to know what he would like. When he was little, he sent out wish lists (I remember the year his parents made him cut it back from the 30+ things he had on his list...they found out he thought putting things on the list made the receiving of those gifts automatic), but we don't get those anymore. Actually, we hear very little from anyone in that household. Too many miles; too busy lives. It's funny, because that grandson's father was always hard to buy for when he was little, too. He never knew just what he wanted until the week before Christmas (sometimes the day before), then he'd settle on something nearly impossible to find. We always tried very hard to buy one thing the children were really coveting to give them from Santa, even when we were pretty broke (which was most of the time). He gave us some fearful times, trying to scurry around to find just the thing he finally had decided he couldn't live without. There was the year it was a gatling gun. I know, I know. This was before all the social issues around getting children toy guns. Every child had them, boys and girls. Anyway, we finally found it, at the very last minute. Christmas Day, he was thrilled to find this weapon under the Christmas tree (I never saw the ridiculousness of that until just now!). He and his baby brother, who was 2 1/2, went out to the kitchen to try it out. Somehow (we didn't have TV, remember, so we hadn't seen all the hype about it) we didn't realize it ACTUALLY SHOT LITTLE PLASTIC BULLETS, ABOUT A 100 A MINUTE! Luckily, before he put out his baby brother's eyes, he was startled and just a little scared by this himself. The gatling gun was put away before dinner on that Christmas Day. Every year was similar for this child. The year he was four, he wanted a Robot Commando. So poor DB, who was working three jobs most of the time, spent his off-hours trying to find this monster. Success! Barely minutes before Christmas. Child was again thrilled. We asked him to wait until after dinner, which the whole extended family attended in those days, to put the batteries in it. He happily played with it in the living room, without the batteries, all morning. After dinner was cleared up, and guests had finally left (actually, some stayed until supper), DB put the batteries into the robot. It wouldn't work on the carpet, and I was still in the kitchen (where I spent most of the Christmas days), so DB and child took it upstairs into the boys' room. DB demonstrated how it worked to oldest son, and came downstairs. Well, this thing had arms that swung around and shot pingpong balls, a head that opened to release more balls; it moved forward, backward, relentlessly. About ten minutes after DB had come downstairs, oldest boy started screaming. We flew up those stairs to see the robot advancing on child, arms and head flinging pingpong balls, while child tried frantically to stop it. It was remote controlled, and for a four-year-old, it was too much to remember which button to push for what. Child was so traumatized, the toy was put up forever. He never wanted to play with it again. Now, do you suppose that's why I struggle so over presents for HIS son?
Yesterday was a "strategic planning" session all day. Yawn. Today the management team spends the day going over policies and procedures. Double yawn. And I gave up my class with the parents for this? Unfortunately, I had no choice. That is the real downside of being a manager again.
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