I started a holiday tradition when my oldest niece was just four years old (she's now 19 and at a far off place called UC Davis). Having first recited my three rules, we ventured into Walmart so that she could pick her own present--the caveats were that there was a $25 limit and she would need to wait until Christmas to unwrap it. She spent nearly an hour going up and down the toy aisles looking for that special gift, with me in tow, carefully explaining to me her likes and dislikes as I made several suggestions (then I just gave up). Having settled on what I remember being a Barbie (or was it Cinderella) brush and comb set, she was quite content and I didn't have to figure out what to buy a four-year-old because she told me.
These holiday shopping trips grew over time to include my nephew (now 15 and a sophomore in high school) and my youngest niece (now 11 and about ready to go to junior high). As always, there was an element of enlightened self-interest for me since I never had to guess what to give them if I just listened and paid attention. They also benefitted by learning to handle money trying to get the biggest bang for their $25 (it served as a practical way to teach them arithmetic as they added up the price of all their wants), as well as sharpened their ability to negotiate a better deal (I was often a soft touch if they presented a good case).
This year, reflecting back on all that has happened to me, I was reminded of a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson that put everything in perspective: "In the order of nature we cannot render benefits to those from whom we receive them, or only seldom. But the benefit we receive must be rendered again, line for line, deed for deed, cent for cent, to somebody."
So, I added a twist to the annual holiday shopping trip with a commitment to pay forward all the blessings I have received (see my post Gratitude List (Redux)). In addition to picking a gift for themselves, I asked my nieces to each pick a gift for someone their age that I could bring for a church-sponsored drive for those less fortunate. I watched in admiration as each niece spent as much time and care picking the gifts to be donated as their own.
I also added the same twist with my oldest grandson, now six and a big Bakugan fan. The first holiday shopping trip last year had mixed results as he had a little trouble following my three rules (especially the part about not getting his own way). This year, being in first grade, he was able to use the price scanner at Walmart to see that the Star Wars battle tank he wanted was beyond the budget at $99, but he was still able to negotiate a good deal for a Bakugan Maxinoid for $35. I admit that he certainly presented a good case for the generosity by also picking out age-appropriate toys for my younger grandsons (now three and eighteen months).
Things did get a bit testy, though, when he picked a Backugan Battle Brawler to donate for a boy his age. Not really understanding my intentions, he told me that if no one wanted it, I could give it to him. I calmly explained that not every parent was able to give a boy a present for Christmas, so he could think of the toy as a present from him. After thinking about it for a moment, he was OK with the idea and said no more. The toy eventually arrived with other gifts that Barb and I brought to the local homeless shelter that day.
In the end, my nieces and grandson gave me a precious gift -- a reminder that there is indeed a reason for the season.
