The conundrum that is gift-giving
By: Linda McCarthy
I never know what to get my husband for Father’s Day. Technically, I shouldn’t even worry about it because he’s not my dad. But knowing my boys, if I don’t cover for them, we’ll be re-wrapping last year’s tie.
My husband is one of those annoying people who, when asked what he wants in the gift department, predictably responds with, "Nothing." One year, I made the mistake of following through on that request. I haven’t heard the end of it since.
We’ve run the gamut of power tools, sports equipment, Flowbees and man purses. Everything seems to fall a little short of, "It’s just what I wanted."
This year, I decided to throw the ball into the boys’ court. They’re old enough to get creative and, on several occasions, have demonstrated a unique, albeit bizarre, sense of taste.
My daughter-in-law’s birthday was last month. Since she owns a one-legged parakeet named Peg, the boys put their heads together and decided to chip in for one fried chicken leg. They thought a prosthetic device would be nice.
Whoopee cushions are a popular favorite, although a bit overdone in this house. Actually, anything from the dollar store is a hit around here. They still love to give those little plastic men on parachutes. I can’t decide if the boys are cheap, broke or reliving their childhoods.
They are forbidden to give or receive anything that breathes. This rule stems from the cute bloodhound puppy I got on Mother’s Day a few years back. He’s turned into a 170-pound monster who steals food off the counter and propels slobber across the living room when he shakes his head.
The only trick this dog knows is self-taught; he learned how to open the back door and takes it upon himself to terrorize the neighborhood. Gifts like this I could live without.
The boys selfishly choose presents with the hope that the recipient will share the wealth. Video games fall neatly into this category. My husband doesn’t play them but has gotten the latest releases for several occasions.
I’m a little guilty of this, too. I had the iPod I gave him engraved with my initials. Clearly, the apple does not fall far from the tree.
One year, I started feeling a little guilty about the disappointing gifts my husband has endured. I thought I’d be nice and hire a contractor to do all the home repair jobs awaiting attention.
My husband took my initiative as an insult to his handyman ability, so I had to cancel. That was eight years ago; I’m still waiting for the toilet to stop running.
This year, I vowed to put serious thought into it and came up with the perfect present. It’s not a flat screen TV or the new motorcycle he’s been eyeing; it’s something much more personal and endearing:
If I start doing laundry right now, on Father’s Day morning, my husband can wake up and not have to spend an hour looking for two matching socks!
Or, better yet, I’ll just take his charge card and buy new ones.
Happy Father’s Day!
Linda McCarthy resides in Robbinsville with her husband and three children.