A Long Ago Christmas Present

Not only am I the baby of my family, I’m also the only girl. My brothers were seven and almost nine by the time I arrived. I’ve been told they thought I was extremely precious…until I became mobile and started messing up their stuff. I can’t remember what year it was, or exactly how old I was, but in my memory it seems like I was seven. I was, obviously, old enough to know exactly which buttons, when pushed frequently, would torment my brothers the best.

Christmas was nearing that year. I don’t remember receiving lavish gifts for Christmas…there were mouths to feed after all. That year though, there were more presents with my name then with my brothers’ names. Of course, being the darling child I was, I had to mention often that I had more presents than they did. I think most of my needling was pointed at Michael…possibly because he was closest to my age, or possibly because he was the master button pusher, and it felt like poetic justice to me. Again, the details are a bit fuzzy in my brain (it has, after all been a few years ago), but I think I may have had seven presents with my name on them, which back then was pretty huge. Some of those presents likely held boring things I needed like underwear, but prior to unwrapping them I wouldn’t have known that, and would have been dreaming of all the goodness that was in those wrappings. And expounding on that goodness times seven several times a day. I’m sure I didn’t ever get remotely close to being annoying.

So, you can imagine my surprise and glee when I woke up one morning to find one more present. Oh the joy. I could hardly contain myself. I remember shaking that present and admiring it. What could it possibly be? It was pretty heavy, and if I remember correctly didn’t make too much noise when I shook it. I was beside myself with curiosity, but found enough kindness in myself to ensure my brothers realized I now had not seven, but eight presents.

When Christmas Eve finally arrived, and we were ready to open presents, I was super excited. To this day I can remember my excitement because there were so many presents. The details get a bit fuzzy again, but I believe I saved the mystery present for last. As fate would have it, I couldn’t tell you now what was in any of those other presents that had my name on them. Those uber important presents that I rubbed my brothers noses in. But that mystery present, I remember well its contents. It was a big helping of poetic justice served with a side of humility. Under that pretty wrapping (I think it may have been wrapped in the Sunday comics) was a large box filled with newspaper...and then another box filled with newspaper…and another box. I don’t remember how many boxes total were inside that large box, but the last box inside the big box was full of…………rocks, courtesy of my brothers who had grown tired of my gloating. I, of course, thought it was the meanest present ever and immediately commenced being a drama queen. It would take me a few years to find the humor, and underlying lesson of that present.

I learned from that present that gloating about what possessions you have is never ok, and doesn’t make anyone feel friendly about you. Even if those possessions are new underwear and socks, graciousness goes much farther than gloating. I also learned that if you already have more presents than normal, and one more shows up mysteriously, it might be a good idea to be skeptical…especially when you have brothers.