Gifts Make Grinches
Remember when you were a kid? Christmas was AWESOME. You didn't have to do anything to prepare for Christmas other than twist on the knife of anticipation. On the morning itself, the sweet plastic joy of commercial glee would explode all over you.
Maybe I over-romanticize the past. (Gasp. What a strange thing to do!) I'm thinking particularly about Dollar Store Knockoff Barbie.
Sitting on my sister's living room floor on Christmas day, surveying the packages and trying to drum up some enthusiasm in my heart, I thought, "I wish I could be a kid again and genuinely love every gift."
"Wait a minute - what about Dollar Store Knockoff Barbie?"
She wasn't a barbie. She had a name like Stacey or Julie. She came in a cellophane sleeve and her hair was only sewn on at the part, making it prone to a mohawk look. Her hollow limbs were of a flimsier plastic and she was an inch too tall for the doll house. I snipped the feet off of one Knockoff Barbie so she could fit in the house with the properly expensive Barbies(TM). Opening one of these puppies on Christmas morning felt like being told you had homework to do. Math homework. If you were a good kid, you'd feign the same pleasure your aunt did opening yet another bath oil set in a scent she can't stand. "Oh. Gosh. How NICE." If you were a bad kid, you'd scream and throw the doll across the room.
The point is - kids are just as awful as adults. Perhaps more so. They are purer. I got angry when I thought my dad was buying better toys for my cousins than me. I actually threw a fit, right in front of the extended family, over getting clothes for Christmas when I was twelve.
Maybe that's why I was so nervous about giving a gift to Lizzie - she's the age I was when I was most vulnerable to displays of pique.
I digress.
This Cracked Article outlines some of the real psychological problems with gift-giving and receiving. The first point is that science has proven that no one wants a carefully thought-out unexpected gift. They rate it as more thoughtful to give money or something they outright asked for.
Yeah, I died a little inside reading that. But then I tried to think of the totally unexpected surprise gift that I really loved. Uh... yeah. Meanwhile, though you'd think it was cold and emotionless, the things I outright asked for - like a cocktail shaker this year - turn out to be my favorite gift of the year.
I've been filled with a sort of sorrow. "My closest family members don't understand me! It's evidenced by the gifts they buy which I don't love! They must not really love me!" But, really, studies show - actual studies! - that the longer someone knows you the WORSE they are at picking a gift for you that you'll like. It's not me, it's not us - it's humanity.
And outright asking for something will not rob your gift-opening of joy. Lesson learned. (PS: family members - ask me for stuff. Specific stuff.)
Maybe I over-romanticize the past. (Gasp. What a strange thing to do!) I'm thinking particularly about Dollar Store Knockoff Barbie.
Sitting on my sister's living room floor on Christmas day, surveying the packages and trying to drum up some enthusiasm in my heart, I thought, "I wish I could be a kid again and genuinely love every gift."
"Wait a minute - what about Dollar Store Knockoff Barbie?"
She wasn't a barbie. She had a name like Stacey or Julie. She came in a cellophane sleeve and her hair was only sewn on at the part, making it prone to a mohawk look. Her hollow limbs were of a flimsier plastic and she was an inch too tall for the doll house. I snipped the feet off of one Knockoff Barbie so she could fit in the house with the properly expensive Barbies(TM). Opening one of these puppies on Christmas morning felt like being told you had homework to do. Math homework. If you were a good kid, you'd feign the same pleasure your aunt did opening yet another bath oil set in a scent she can't stand. "Oh. Gosh. How NICE." If you were a bad kid, you'd scream and throw the doll across the room.
The point is - kids are just as awful as adults. Perhaps more so. They are purer. I got angry when I thought my dad was buying better toys for my cousins than me. I actually threw a fit, right in front of the extended family, over getting clothes for Christmas when I was twelve.
Maybe that's why I was so nervous about giving a gift to Lizzie - she's the age I was when I was most vulnerable to displays of pique.
I digress.
This Cracked Article outlines some of the real psychological problems with gift-giving and receiving. The first point is that science has proven that no one wants a carefully thought-out unexpected gift. They rate it as more thoughtful to give money or something they outright asked for.
Yeah, I died a little inside reading that. But then I tried to think of the totally unexpected surprise gift that I really loved. Uh... yeah. Meanwhile, though you'd think it was cold and emotionless, the things I outright asked for - like a cocktail shaker this year - turn out to be my favorite gift of the year.
I've been filled with a sort of sorrow. "My closest family members don't understand me! It's evidenced by the gifts they buy which I don't love! They must not really love me!" But, really, studies show - actual studies! - that the longer someone knows you the WORSE they are at picking a gift for you that you'll like. It's not me, it's not us - it's humanity.
And outright asking for something will not rob your gift-opening of joy. Lesson learned. (PS: family members - ask me for stuff. Specific stuff.)