|The Curiosity Shoppe|
The photo above is option two for Sowashee Power & Light which is due in less than five days now.
At least part of a southern autumn is shopping and ornaments and dishes for special occasions. A framed photo, a candle. A sign which says bless your heart all year through. The warmness of a fuzzy blanket, the scent of a particular lotion, a special soap, a gift certificate for family photos.
For that special lady. There are billions of them out there.
But kids. I don't even know what kids want these days.
One year Slater wanted a toaster. (I can't tell you how I felt as a mother when my child at ten years old looked at me and said, "All I want is a toaster. Get me a toaster.")
I just went with that feeling, "Slater, you can't just get a toaster. Christmas is not about getting an appliance." After a short pause I added, "Especially one that only does one thing."
"Because it's Christmas and I think you have to want a toy. I mean of course you're going to get socks and underwear and a new pair of jeans and maybe a sweater and do you need a coat?"
"No, I don't need any more clothes. I want a toaster."
"But a toaster. Baby, you can't need just a toaster. What does that say about me as a mother?"
"What do you mean?"
"There's a couple o' things. First, it sounds like you can't even make toast. And that's a lie. All you have to do is open up the oven, put the bread in and turn it on. Turn it off when you're done. Secondly, you sound like some poor child who has no way to warm his bread."
"But I want a toaster."
"But a toaster only does one thing. It only toasts. An oven does that and more. Why would you want an appliance that only does one thing?"
"I don't care. I want a toaster."
"You have to pick out a toy, too."
"Because it's Christmas, child." (exclamation point)
The hardest person for whom to buy something is the guy who only wanted a toaster and refuses to throw away his old pair of shoes and even today does what temperature will it be if I refuse to turn on the heat experiments in his apartment. I asked him how his roommate felt about the temperature thing. "Oh yeah, he's totally into it," he said. "Right now though he's sick and in bed and I have to put on rudimentary clothing, you know, to check the thermostat."
"Rudimentary? Your roommate is sick. Yeah. Check the thermostat." I smile. My kid.
The roommate most likely needs some good socks as well, but at least there's a toaster he can use.
His Nana bought him a toaster that year.
Today I am grateful for a toaster and what it meant to my kid.
Here is his movie recommendation during a southern autumn this year.