Kid bonding present thing
A couple weeks into December, my kids started asking me what I wanted for Christmas.
“I want all of you to be nice to each other for an entire day,” I said.
“Ugh, boring,” they replied.
“How about a day with no whining?” I offered.
“Come on, mom,” they said. “Be realistic.”
I thought for a minute and then had a flash of inspiration.
“I want each of you to plan an outing with me,” I told them. “It has to be two hours or less, and I’ll give you each a budget of $40.”
I could immediately see the gears turning in their brains. A couple days later, I heard 13-year-old Jane rounding everyone up for a special meeting in the basement. Several sheets of paper disappeared, along with the markers that are usually scattered all over our dining room table. Later that night, a wrapped bundle with my name on it appeared under the Christmas tree.
I couldn’t wait to see what my kids had come up with. On Christmas morning, I carefully unwrapped the bundle and found a hand-written card from each child inside, detailing what their date with me was going to be.
“Dear Mom,” Jane wrote. “For your kid bonding present thing, we’ll get takeout from a restaurant of your choice, then take it home and watch a movie while eating it! Yay!”
I was happy to see that she was so enthusiastic about our “kid bonding present thing,” which I thought was a very apropos description of the whole set up.
Seventeen-year-old Lucy really took a hit for the team when she offered to go with me to a museum that I think is kitschy and fun but that makes my kids want to gouge their eyeballs out. “I am not sure if [the museum] is open,” she wrote, “but if it is, we can go there and, after we check out their air conditioning [writer’s note: this is an inside joke that I thought was very, VERY funny], we can go and get a treat or lunch.”
“Merry Christmas, Mom!” wrote 11-year-old Henry. “For your gift from me I will go shopping with you wherever you like! (under 40 dollars) (that you pay) (it was on your wish list).”
Fifteen-year-old George also seemed very concerned that I understood that he was in no way financially responsible for our little excursion:
“Mom: Merry Christmas!” he scribbled in his nearly illegible cursive. “For your present I will be treating you to dinner at your favorite restaurant (as long as you pay [winking emoji]).”
My youngest sons, Emmett and Hyrum, planned identical dates: dollar store, ice cream, movie. As written in Emmett’s note: “[Pick] any one. Or two. Or your choice. Merry Christmas. Or three. Whatever you want.”
Now that we’re into February, I have cashed in on a few of my gifts. Emmett and Hyrum agreed to combine their outings, so we hit the dollar store one day after school. They were a little upset when they realized I didn’t intend to buy them $40 worth of dollar store toys, but it was nothing that a giant Dairy Queen Blizzard couldn’t fix.
A couple weeks later, Jane and I went to a juice cafe to grab acai bowls to go, and then came home and watched Jane’s favorite TV show of all time, “High School Musical: The Musical: The Series” (yes, that’s the actual title, and no, I have no idea why).
Lucy and I hit up Target (because sadly, the museum is indeed closed), grabbed a treat and came home to indulge in an episode of “Say Yes to the Dress”.
These “kid bonding present things” have been a bright spot in an otherwise dreary January. They’ve gotten me out of my daily routine and allowed me to stop and smell the roses with my most precious people by my side. I’ve already got a plan for my final two dates: Henry is going to go out shopping with me next week, and I’m just waiting for my favorite restaurant to open so George can finally take me out to dinner—as long as I pay (winking emoji).