We had it covered though. I went simple saying this happened all the time and Santa had to have a way to help with families who were away for Christmas. My husband went with a more in-depth explanation. Either way though, this morning arrived and there was a present for each of them under the tree from Santa. Four grandparents were here and we had a nice, albeit frenzied, morning.
One thing that’s nice about having Christmas not on Christmas is things are open. I wanted to get up and go get some coffee. As I was rolling over in bed my husband said to me, “I think that toaster oven of yours has had a long life.” This was code for, “I want to get a new toaster oven.” He had found one that was also an air fryer and a convection oven and did twelve other nifty things in a small space on top of the counter. So I said, “are you saying you want to get me a toaster oven for Christmas?”
He said that was exactly what he was thinking. I explained about the need for coffee and we found the model he wanted available at a store down the road. So I got in the car, picked up that latte I was wanting, got the antibiotics for my daughter at the pharmacy and then went to Bed Bath and Beyond, all in my Christmas pajamas.
I was thinking about my ex-husband’s mother who one year, upon getting a toaster oven from her husband, was offended because she thought the underlying message was that she needed to do more cooking. Not so here. No offense taken. Mostly because my husband loves to cook and also because he was right, that twenty-year-old toaster oven had seen better days.
I got to the store, got the last one of the model barely in the cart, swearing at the oversized box that would barely wedge into the cart space. I checked out, remembered a coupon at the last minute, running back to the car in my pajamas, which was fine, because additional money off and all.
Then things went wrong. When I got to the car I couldn’t get the box out of the cart. I pulled and the rib hurt. I was parked on an incline and I couldn’t get the box in further or out at all. I did some colorful swearing as the box wedged my finger against the cart, resulting in a cardboard “paper tear” followed by a blood blister, escaping with a bruised but thankfully not broken finger.
I dragged the cart to the curb and tried to get the wheels on some mulch to get a better purchase on the box. It moved but then slid back down further. I thought I could get it out at this point, but I didn’t think I could carry the box to the car without it dropping due to the bulky size or possibly the cart careening back into the car. While I looked over the situation I did some more swearing.
And then a man came over and offered to help. At this point I though of stories where a kindly man helps a woman in need, only to shove her into the car and drive off with her to his den of torture. I was so annoyed with the box that I was willing to take my chances and accepted his offer of help.
He got the box out and into the car while I held onto the cart and then he said, “nice pajamas” as he carried the cart back up towards the entrance to the store.
The toaster oven is now settled in to it’s new home on our counter. We’ve used it three times so far to warm or cook food. My finger and bruised ego will heal. On the whole, a good Christmas present, I’d say.
The Big Boy Update: My son got some video games from Santa. We learned a lesson last year that if he’s got games he can play, he will leave us all sitting around the tree to go and play them, uncaring about any other gifts he might have. So this year the games were downloadable—and the downloads wouldn’t happen until Christmas was over.
The Tiny Girl Chronicle: My daughter got some very nice gifts this year. It’s harder to shop for her because of her vision impairment. My husband spent two days modifying Chutes and Ladders for her. We’re taking it on our trip with us. She loves it.
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