Like many children, T spent a lot of the last month or two making sure I knew what he wanted for Christmas. We would walk through the store, looking for gifts to give our family and friends, and he would point out a dozen things that he wanted to add to his list. He even took the Lowe’s ad one day and circled all the drills and power tools he wanted to see wrapped under the tree. He wanted everything.
I found myself worrying that I was raising a greedy child. A child who only thought Christmas was about all the new toys he would get.
And then, slowly, I started to notice a chance.
Very flat wrapped presents started appearing under our tree.
“Mom, I made you another present. Can you go in your room so I can wrap it?”
As of today, there are five of these drawings or art pieces wrapped quite nicely and waiting for me to open on Christmas morning.
This morning when I dropped him off at school, he very gently placed his winter boots from last year into the Winter Clothing Drive box outside his classroom because they were the only thing he’s outgrown and is still in good condition.
“Mom, Christmas isn’t about just getting all the toys.” I looked at my little monster as we carefully wrapped gifts for his grandparents. “It’s about being with our family. That’s what it’s about, huh?”
I watched him carefully place a piece of tape on the wintery wrapping paper, and I was filled with pride for my little boy. I let him finish wrapping that gift, and then I pulled him into my lap and hugged him tight.
“That’s right, bubba. I love you.”