‘Tis(n’t) the Season

“I still really want a football,” Elias said last week.

“What happened to the one you got for Christmas?” I said, helping myself to more pasta.

“I didn’t get one for Christmas.”

“What? Yes you did. It was on your list and I got you one.”

“Well, WE did,” Paul said. “That was from both of us, right?”

Sure. That was from both of us, dear. I distinctly remember the extent of your involvement in the process.

“Did not,” Elias said. “I was disappointed but I didn’t want to say anything.” Levi concurred. Apparently the football was kind of a joint request, and they both remember feeling cheated. You put an expensive new gaming system on your list, you prepare for disappointment, but usually Mom comes through on books and things that are enjoyed outside. They know the drill.

I searched my Amazon order history. “Look,” I said, triumphant. “Right here. I bought a football.”

Both boys looked at me and shrugged. “Then what did you do with it, Mom?”

Um.

Best guess after some discussion was that I had it sent to work (for secrecy) and forgot to bring it home, or I accidentally put it in the donate box.

I put a(nother) football in my Amazon cart and decided to order when the weather improved. At the rate Ohio’s going that could be never, but we live in hope.

Today I took PTO from work and stayed home to catch up on a bunch of household stuff. The loss of all my winter Sundays to wrestling meets took a toll and I have been behind since October. More behind than usual.

I finished up a whack of bookwork and decided to do some decluttering to unwind (yes, I’m a weirdo).

Having sifted through a pile of detritus that accumulated in a corner of our room as I dashed in and out of the house like a madwoman, I picked up an unopened box.

“I wonder what this is,” I said. The dog had no opinion.

And so it was that Elias got his last Christmas present when he came home from school today, April 18.

He was pleased and everyone was amused, and I’m raising them to be flexible and not entitled, or that’s what I’m telling myself.

And I need to take that football out of my Amazon cart before I forget why it’s there and buy another one.