For the first time in the history of, um… ever, I have all my Christmas shopping done.
And all of my presents are wrapped.
It’s a Christmas miracle.
Of course, that means that one of the kids was going to add something onto their Christmas list, something that they wanted MORE. THAN. ANYTHING.
Number 4, who had shared a very modest Christmas wish list with me all of the sudden decided she wanted and iPod.
Like one of the really nice ones that you can watch Netflix on, do Musical.ly videos on and do whatever else the kids like to do on them (although actually listening to music doesn’t seem to really be one of those things kids do with an iPod anymore).
I told her Santa had already done all his shopping.
The first heavy sigh presented itself.
Number 3, who was sitting right there when Number 4 amended her Christmas list said, “I’m sure they are going to get you one. Mom just doesn’t want to ruin the surprise.”
I assured Number 4 that there would be no iPod under or anywhere near the Christmas tree. And there wouldn’t be one at Grammy and Papa’s house either.
I reminded Number 4 about what I had told all the kids this past summer.
From now on, we would not be buying any electronics for the kids.
If they wanted phones or iPods or iPads or anything like that, they were going to have to pay for them themselves.
“MOM!!!” Number 4 yelled. “THAT’S NOT FAIR!!!”
She gave me the death glare, let the tears start flowing, and stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
A couple minutes later, she tried again.
I looked at her and now I was sighing heavily.
I tried hard not to roll my eyes when she started stomping again.
“MOM!!!” she yelled.
“Remember that song you were asking me about? Feed the World? The one where the kids in Africa don’t even know it’s Christmas and they are seriously happy if they just have water to drink?”
She stomped back up the stairs.
About twenty minutes later, I went upstairs to read a story to Number 6 and 7 and put them into bed.
Number 4 came in their room.
“Did you read my story?” Number 4 asked.
I told her I hadn’t seen it.
“I left it in the office by your computer,” she told me.
I told her I would read it after I got the little guys into bed.
Once they were all tucked in, I walked into the office and I sat down.
There was her story right in front of me.
It was entitled The Little Bear.
Number 4 appeared right beside me, from out of nowhere. Like a ninja.
I picked up the story and started reading.
Once upon a time their was a teeny-tiny bear who only wanted an i-pod for christmas.
Oh my God. She was not going down without a damn fight.
I looked at Number 4 and rolled my eyes.
“It’s not what you think Mom! Keep reading,” she said.
I kept reading.
The mama bear said no, so the bear was very sad 🙁 .
I rolled my eyes a second time.
“It’s not what you think Mom! Keep reading,” she said again.
But the bear realized Christmas is not a time for reciveing, but for giving. The bear felt silly thinking all about himself. He knew there were children in Africa who would never even dream of an i-pod.
Well that certainly threw me for a loop.
“Keep reading, Mom!” Number 4 said.
The Bear said to his mom all he wants for Christmas is for everyone in
Africa the world to be happy and content, and he knew he already was. And he knew the spirit of Christmas was all around him and he was happy for what he had.
The End (that was on the other side).
All I could do was laugh. I was stunned. And proud.
“I’m sorry for throwing a fit, Mom,” Number 4 said.
And she threw her arms around me and gave me a hug.
I know I’ve made plenty of mistakes with my kids. And I know I’m going to make plenty more.
But last night, well, last night I was reminded that I’m doing a halfway decent job. At least with one of them.
And the story of the Little Bear is one of the best Christmas gifts I’m ever gonna get.