The best gifts are filled with love
Earlier this week, my son Emmett celebrated his eighth birthday. As child number five out of six, he knows a thing or two about advocating for himself, since otherwise he might quite literally be forgotten. So, weeks before his birthday, while I was still recovering from the slap in the face known as “January,” he asked me to post a half-sheet of paper on the fridge with the words “Emmett’s Birthday Wish List” written across the top. As soon as I taped it up, he started writing down all the things that make an eight-year-old boy’s heart flutter: remote control cars, Hot Wheels tracks, a wrist watch with LED backlighting, Legos, and more.
“That’s quite a list, buddy,” I told him as I passed by the refrigerator later that day.
“Yup,” he replied happily. “I can’t wait to get my presents!”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” I said nervously, feeling the need to clarify the ground rules of a wish list. “You know how this works, right? You might get one or two of the things on your list, but you for sure won’t get all of them. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” he replied.
And with that, I snapped a picture of the list and took myself to Target. A box of Legos, some Hot Wheels tracks and one cheap digital watch later, we were ready for the birthday bash to begin. The night before the big day, I carefully wrapped each present in leftover Christmas paper (since that’s all that we had on hand in our extremely well-run household) and set them out on the kitchen table for him to find in the morning.
He was beside himself with glee as he shook each present the next day before he left for school, trying to guess what was in each box. The Legos were easy, but the other two had him stumped. We agreed that he would wait until our family party that night to open his presents.
Later that day, I decided to surprise him and join him for lunch at school, because that’s still pretty cool when you’re in second grade. As I contorted my body to fit onto the narrow bench that was attached to the lunch table, his best friend Cody sat down next to me.
“I gave Emmett a present today,” he said, beaming.
“You did?” I replied. “That was nice of you. What was it?”
“Well, I asked our teacher for a Ziploc baggie, and then I filled it with water from the drinking fountain and gave it to him,” he answered.
I blinked. “You gave him a bag of water?”
“Yeah, and it’s totally awesome!” Emmett piped up from his spot on the bench opposite Cody. “I put it on my desk and I’ve been squishing it around all morning. All my friends keep trying to steal it from me because it’s so fun!”
I thought of the pile of expensive and apparently useless gifts sitting on our table at home, and of the Wonder Toy of 2020—a bag of water—sitting on Emmett’s desk down the hallway in his classroom. You hear all the stories of kids who are more enthralled with the cardboard box than with the present inside of it. While I’ve never had the guts to actually try such a thing—to basically just give a kid a piece of garbage for their present— hearing about the bag of water got me wondering what I could get away with. A wad of used rubber bands? Mismatched socks stuffed into a whiffle ball? A tube of toothpaste tied to a string?
Sadly, Emmett got home from school before I could return all his presents and replace them with trash I found under the cushions of our couch. But my mama heart was happy to see him thrilled with all of the presents he got that day—the expensive, the obvious, and the simple one given with love from a best friend.
The next birthday we have coming up is my husband’s. I think he’ll get a kick out of the giant empty flat screen TV box I’m planning on getting him. And if not, I can always just fill it with water.