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All She Wants For Christmas
When I was in grade school, I liked nothing better than the day my parents' Sears Christmas catalog would finally appear on the coffee table. I cleared my extensive play schedule and devoted quite a bit of time to looking through its pages, making notes on which toys I would need to put on my Santa list and in what priority. I don't remember any other time of year when I felt it was my duty to let my parents know what I was eyeing in the marketplace. And judging by the crucial items they ignored from that list year after year, they didn't really feel it was my duty at Christmastime, either.
My preschooler, on the other hand, who has only known three Christmases in her life (and only understood one of them) is already on a mission to consume all that doesn't consume her first. She has never met a catalog that she didn't love, from Toys R Us to Pottery Barn, which she studies like she's cramming for an exam. Her early Santa list tells the whole story, really:
1. Thomas "big mountain toy" (her description)
2. Go, Diego, Go! Rescue Station
3. The Manhattan Armchair and Ottoman in leather
4. The four-piece Lightning McQeen bed set from Rooms to Go
5. The 2008 Nissan Frontier, in silver.
To be fair, that last one didn't come from a catalog. Her grandfather drives one, and upon seeing it last week, her eyes gleamed as she said, "I like Pop Pop's new truck, Mommy. I want to buy one."
Yes, we'll get right on that, dear.
But I think her best request so far happened last week when we went for a walk in our neighborhood, and MJ stopped dead in her tracks in front of a brick-front home, staring up at it.
"MJ, c'mon. Let's go sweet pea," I called as we trooped up the hill.
"Mommy," she said, assessing the windows and the landscaping and the upkeep, "I want to buy this one."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. It's really pretty. I want to buy it."
"It is nice, sweetheart," I agreed. "But what about the house you live in? Don't you think it's really pretty?"
She thought about it for a minute, scuffing her tennis shoes on the bottom of the house's driveway as though kicking the tires of a car -- the 2008 Nissan Frontier in silver, perhaps. "Nah," she said, "This one is a lot nicer."
Ahem.
Her copy of the "North Pole Lumps of Coal" catalog is on order.
Beth appears every Tuesday on TriangleMom2Mom. Read more about Beth at her blog MotherBunker.
Beth McNichol
Beth is a TriangleMom2Mom featured blogger, appearing every Tuesday.
Beth is a freelance writer, former magazine editor and a past media relations director for UNC athletics. She wrote high-brow pieces about air-guitar competitions and the true color of Carolina blue before entering the super-chic life of stay-at-home mom to two girls: MJ, 3; and Little L, 1. Beth is married to a nice boy from Toronto, and they are teaching their children how to say “sorry” in both English and Canadian. She is a graduate of UNC and Northwestern and is a native of West Virginia, the first state to observe Mother’s Day. She now resides on the Chapel Hill side of Durham. If you ask her for juice one more time she will scream.
Comments
I SOOOOOO get her! LOL!
We're buying a new USED minivan and my daughter is asking if it's pretty, if it's new, etc. My cold-hearted response (remember, she's 15...cold-hearted is a necessary parenting skill), "It will get us from point A to point B and we can afford it."
In my house, the arrival of the LL Bean Christmas catalogue means the beginning of the Christmas season. I shrieked "It's Christmas time!!" when it came two weeks ago and my daughter and I sat down to look at all the pictures of people in snowsuits and warm coats that we'll never need down here.
About the same time, the kid started her Christmas list, but thankfully the most expensive item is a princess suitcase (though I'm pretty sure in her mind getting a suitcase also means she'll be headed out of town somewhere on an airplane).