I don't remember when we first tempted fate-and crying children-but I do remember several times having to avert meltdowns when a favored gift was snatched. Hence the year when I had to heroically steal back the RC-Cola-and-Moonpie gift set and deliver it to Sarah to keep her from imploding when it was taken from her sugar-craving grasp.
But the loss of a treasure like X-ray-Specs or Hot-Cocoa-and-Mug pales in comparison to the trauma caused by the opposite disaster.
Yes, I mean Getting Stuck With the Gift that Sucks.
One year Andrew got stuck with a nondescript Christmas decoration. A resin plaque consisting of Santa with a reindeer which strongly resembled a moose, all set over the word NOEL. Not fetchingly hideous, or laughably distressing, just sort of blah, probably bought out of desperation to get enough gag gifts and get out of the store. It would have been better if it was noteworthy by ugliness, because if it was stupid enough to draw attention, it would have been stolen.
Trust me, I know my family-if it had drawn attention by bad taste, it would have been stolen over and over until retired.
As it was, it was simply there. Only awful in its boringness. Forgettable. Stunningly mediocre.
Needless to say, no one would steal it from him, so we ended up taking it home more out of sheer bloody-mindedness than anything else. Despite his best offers to show it off or to draw attention to it, he could not make it look bad enough to elicit any interest. And needless to say, he was gloomy and upset by the whole drama. What is worse for a kid than to be ignored and overlooked?
So I took that stupid plaque and stuck it on the front door, maybe trying to show him that it was not as bad as all that. Or maybe just because we had an extra bare hook already screwed into the wall out front, and what the hell, might as well fill 'em all up. I don't think he was mollified a bit, I think he thought I was trying to fool him into thinking his crappy little plaque was some wonderful treasure, and he has always been too smart to fall for those feel-good Andy Griffith tricks.
But I left that Noel plaque up there all Christmas season. At New Year's, the traditional time when we strip the house of all the Christmas decorations and pack them away in the garage until next December, we put it in the box with everything else.
Next year-yep, it went up again.
And every year since then. I just put it up again today, it is out front banging against the front door with every breeze. Also out there is a more traditional and "serious" decoration, a beautiful evergreen wreath. Well-balanced, the two look to me.
With years binding us together, the Noel plaque and me, it has lost its ugly boringness. Now it looks like an old friend, a reminder of past Christmases with the kids running around, a house full of chattering family, cakes and pies and Irish coffee and dogs underfoot and gift wrap everywhere after the carnage of Christmas morning.
The original story has faded, it is no longer a testament to trying to make a kid feel better or trying to be a supportive parent, it is just a part of our holiday. Along with our perpetually leaning tree, the short-circuiting angel (Sparky, of course), and the handmade scrawled paper plate ornaments, it exists near the heart of the Barber Christmas Experience.
Or something like that. Maybe this is another Christmas reconciliation story....after all, those are some of the most compelling stories I know...
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