Only 364 days left

As soon as Maggie woke up this morning, she asked, “Santa coming today?”
“Um, NO,” I said, “he’s definitely not.”
“Cwistmas comin’ soon?” she asked again, still hoping we had entered some new, magical reality where presents dropped from the sky by the dozen each morning.
“That’s right, honey,” I answered her, as we took in the scene of wrapping paper and toy chaos that is our living room. “Just 364 more days.”

Christmas seems more exhausting every year, although I really do love it. The kids were all up by 6 a.m. to open their presents, and Maggie was especially taken with her “sock bag” full of candy, Fisher Price Little People, and Chap Stick (also known as “makeup.”) David and I have taken oaths in the past not to buy each other anything; I think I was first to float that balloon, because he is seriously impossible to buy for. Even so, we still get each other ONE gift, just in case the other spouse does, and that seems to be how it is settling out.

Like I said, David is impossible to buy for; if you ask him what he wants, he says Gold Toe socks, which is just too depressing for me to consider. Instead, I got him a pair of Bose noise-reducing headphones, since he flies overnight to London five or six times a year. I gave them to him the weekend before Christmas this year, since we were spending that time with our extended family on his side. He seemed moderately psyched; to be honest, my brother-in-law was more excited about them, but what can you do? David then announced to all those gathered that he was “still working” on my present, which I knew, in this particular context, meant “have not begun to consider.”

I told him he really didn’t have to bother, that I could just get something at the post-Christmas sales for myself with a clear conscience and that would be a nice present. “I’m on it,” he insisted, sneaking away to access the World Wide Web.

OK. At least I’m easy to buy for. Cute earrings, spa certificate, cashmere sweater, leather gloves. Can’t go wrong with any of those, and in the past, he hasn’t.

Last night, after the children were in bed, he presented me with his Christmas gift…

a PajamaGram.

I opened the purple box (as in, when I am an old lady I shall wear) and took out a pair of black and white pajamas so roomy I could have worn them 38 weeks pregnant with twins.

“I took the hint you dropped,” David said, smiling.

Said “hint” was when I asked him, a few days ago, if a friend of ours had ever invested in the company. David said he didn’t think so. I said that was good, since I couldn’t really imagine they were selling many PajamaGrams, had he ever seen their website?

So then I’m holding the pajamas and wondering whether I should be madder at David because he 1) bought me the lamest Christmas present ever, or 2) is clearly never listening to me AT ALL.

I picked neither. I think he is still under the impression he chose well for me this holiday season, and he hardly ever reads this blog, so it will stay that way. Hey, it’s not like he bought me something from the As We Change catalog. Though I must say their washable walking sneakers look both comfy and practical.