I have a "Cathy" cartoon on the refrigerator. Picture Cathy Christmas Shopping with her mother. Cathy finds what just might be the perfect gift:
"Perfect! She'll get it five days after Christmas, but I finally found the PERFECT gift for Christine! ... Wait a minute, I think I got this for her last year. Did I get it for her last year, or does it just seem familiar because it's so perfect for her?? Or does it seem familiar because she gave one of these once? I can't remember. If neither one of use has ever given this to the other, it's the perfect gift... But if one of us has already given it to the other, it's the WORST POSSIBLE gift!. AAACK! What to do? What to do?"
And her mother says to the saleswoman: "For some, perfection is a goal. For us, it's a starting place."
Mom sent me that strip years ago, and I still live up to it. Daniel, one of the Arizona kids turned 14 this month, and I've been so stymied. He's satisfied with his life, and doesn't want much (or doesn't tell me if he does). He has an I-Pod already, thank you. The cows are paid for. What do you buy a child who doesn't need things to be happy? How do you say "I love you" and "I know you so well that I guessed that this is your heart's desire?" I know, I know, it's ridiculous, but that's how I approach gifts. Heck, I pray about them. I'm nuts. And so my gifts often end up arriving three weeks late.
I settled for Netflix, baked goods, and finally, Saturday, a cozy blanket embellished with his initial:
And I do think it just might be a perfect gift for him.