ON THE SAME PAGE Number may be up on the Christmas pressies scheme
So, the date and location fixed a while back, last weekend seven of us made the trip to the home of the Boomerang Child, Builder Boy and the Wee Cherub of a little over 18 months for an early Christmas.
Joining Mrs P and I were No.1 Son who flew up from the south and the toddler’s other set of grandparents. Covid at the eleventh hour had two other whanau pull out.
As usual, and even without the two we had accounted for, there was enough food and drink to give the legs of the dining room table a solid workout.
Over the course of the next 36 hours — think lunch, continuous grazing, tea, breakfast next morning — we consumed enough of it to give the cushioning powers of the lounge suite a good workout too as we generally wallowed in what my dear departed motherin-law used to describe as “ample sufficiency”.
In the middle of all this “Christmasing”, we exchanged gifts.
Now, I don’t know about you, but in our family we do things a little differently when it comes to gifts these days.
For a start, when the kids were little, we all bought one another a present. Didn’t matter what it was or how much you spent. We all got a few presents from one another and then, as the adults with the deeper pockets, Mrs P and I would add to the individual piles.
It would be fair to say all was generally content in the world. Particularly my world. I could be just about guaranteed to get a sleeve of golf balls from one party, a new golf glove from another, and a packet of tees or other golfy knick-knacks from another.
Just enough to see me through summer. As I say, life was good. But then things changed.
The kids got a bit older, found employment and discovered Christmas presents cost a chunk of their hard-earned cash.
Maybe, rather than spending heaps and buying everybody a present, we should go down the Secret Santa route and just get something for one person, they said. Each of us would draw a single name out of a hat and buy something for just that person.
I should say here I was not in agreement. I mean it’s Christmas and I’m all old traditionalist. Go silly, spend heaps, eat heaps and worry about it later. It happens once a year and you’ve got 365 days to prepare for it. It’s not like two weeks out from the big day you suddenly discover you’ve got to find a heap of cash to buy something, is it? Unfortunately, my view was in the minority.
Christmas, I was told by the apparently recently empowered youthful and militant wing of the family, had been hijacked by big business and was now over-commercialised and too expensive.
As I sat being lectured, part of me was wishing the sprogs had come to that conclusion years earlier when Santa’s bill each year was footed by Yours Truly.
But conversely, I was impressed something like gift giving that struck at their heartstrings in terms of fond memories could equally illicit such a passionate response.
So. We moved to the Secret Santa method. Sort of.
The first time we did the draw it suddenly dawned on the children they may not get their beloved mother or father as a chosen gift recipient. The look of unspoken realisation spreading across their faces will remain with me forever.
I tried to stifle an “I told you so” smirk, he says, trying not to sound like a miserable old sod. Bah humbug!
As it turned out, Mrs P didn’t draw me and I didn’t draw her but we made a secret little pact to get each other something on the quiet.
As it turns out the kids did the same with their mother and father and each other which I reckon kind of defeated the purpose of the whole thing in the first place. Anyway.
Times have changed. Again. And this year we have more people in on the deal too, so instead of Secret Santa we’ve gone for this new pressie game doing the rounds.
Basically, what happens is everybody buys one present to a value of, in this case, no more than $40. Then you draw a number to see who chooses from the pile of assorted gifts first.
The way it works, and you’ll forgive me if I miss some of the intricacies of the scheme, is essentially you can take the gift of the person who chooses their gift immediately before you if you fancy it and dump yours on them.
So, in our family situation this resulted in an hour or so of toing and froing over such gifts as fishing lures, a hammock, a self-starter vegetable growing kit and a set of coffee mugs.
It was an amusing interlude, highlighted by the attempts of Mrs P to try to hide her six coffee mugs on her person so nobody would steal them.
Central to the whole occasion was the performance of the Wee Cherub who delivered each gift to each individual participant and then assisted in unwrapping them.
I have to say it was worth the admission price just to see the look of excitement on her face each time the wrapping came off. Even if they weren’t her gifts.
Actually, to elaborate on that, most of them weren’t her gifts. There was one she particularly took a shine to. Mine. The self-starter vegetable growing kit.
Such was her obvious displeasure at handing it over to Grandad, I ended up letting her have it, which meant I ended the game empty-handed. A bit like my England at the World Cup.
Oh well. One thing about doing your family Christmas a couple of weeks early is you’ve still got time to go and do a bit of shopping for yourself.
Maybe I’ll go out and buy myself a sleeve of golf balls, a new glove and a packet of tees or some other golfy knick-knacks to get me through the summer. 1
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Christmas, I was told by the apparently recently empowered youthful and militant wing of the family, had been hijacked by big business and was now over commercialised and too expensive.
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