B.C. (Back in May, I said I would sometimes share posts from my life prior to Elias—Before Child—and probably because I am in my parents house on Cape Cod, where I spent all my summers growing up, I am reminded of my life before I became a parent.)
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An old boyfriend says to me: “I got you a present.” His hands tucked behind his back, he tells me to close my eyes.
“Open!”
With arms outstretched and palms upward he offers me a small lightweight fishing rod.
Fishing is not a regular pastime of mine but he had just told me weeks earlier, as he packed his gear, that he wanted a smaller rod to add to his collection.
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Anne-Marie is having a contest: The Worst Christmas Present Ever!!!
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When I was seven or eight, I wanted a pet hamster and asked Santa for one for Christmas.
When I crept downstairs on Christmas morning to look under the tree, I saw a cardboard box with holes in it to allow whatever was inside to breathe.
I tried to look in one of the holes but it was too dark, so I listened. I swore I heard a rustle.
“I can hear it moving!” I told Andrew. “I got a hamster!!!!!”
We had to wait for our parents to open gifts and we weren’t allowed to wake our parents till seven. Then Dad had to make coffee and shave before we could even open stockings, which we unwrapped one at a time from youngest to oldest all sitting on our parents bed.
(We did this until we outgrew the bed in high school despite my protests that we always opened our stockings on the bed and it wouldn’t be the same to do it in the living room. I tend to cling to some traditions as I fling away others.)
Next we ate an egg and sausage casserole for breakfast—the same recipe we used this year-- before we again took turns opening the presents under the tree from youngest to oldest.
I couldn’t wait to open up my big gift and finally hold my hamster. When the moment arrived, I peeled away the scotch tape and carefully opened the box.
I’m sure my face fell.
Inside the box sat a lifeless stuffed hamster in a metal cage. It even came with directions on how to feed and care for my new pet.
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I’m not sure which was more disappointing, the fishing rod or the stuffed hamster. But at least my parents aimed to please their little girl’s desires. They just knew that not only would our Siamese hunting cat torture a poor helpless hamster but it would be their responsibility to care for it as much as I insisted I would do it all.
As for the fishing rod, there was nothing about that gift that was for me.
Luckily, that’s one fisherman that got away, and the one I caught gave me, among other things, two homemade gift certificates for Christmas; one is for a dance class of my choice and the other is for a weekend backpacking trip with a friend. And it doesn't even have to be him.
What is your worst present ever?