I’m not sure when it happened. But it most certainly has.
It’s just a few weeks until Christmas, and I have no idea what to get for my wife.
Since we met, I’ve taken great pride in listening, paying attention and knowing what she wants without having to ask. At least, I think I have. But now, my coach is a pumpkin, and I’m running out of time.
I’ve scoured Amazon, looked through newspaper circulars and visited a number of other retail websites. During the process, I’ve found cool stuff for the kids — and stuff I think I’d like — but nothing screamed “Amelia!” to me. I’m almost to the point of asking her mother.
The situation is getting so desperate that on Monday night I literally Googled “Christmas gifts for her.” It led me to a website where I specified from a selection menu that “her” meant “wife,” and it gave me a menagerie of suggestions.
Easily my favorite, and the second one listed, was an acre of property…on the moon.
Yes, apparently starting at $29.99, you can buy a certificate of ownership for moon property. You can do a similar trick with stars, as that was another option.
Needless to say, that site was wholly unhelpful.
Friends suggest jewelry, which seems pretty easy, except we have a toddler — one who we affectionately call “Capt. Destructo.” Amelia rarely gets away with wearing a necklace or bracelet around that child. The last time she wore earrings in her presence, we just missed having to go to the emergency room to sew Amelia’s ear back on (slight exaggeration. Emphasis on slight).
I finally relented and asked my wife, in shame, what she wanted for Christmas.
“A new vacuum,” she replied.
For men everywhere, and I mean this with the sincerest heart: This is a trap.
If my mother taught me anything, it was drilling into my head that you don’t buy your spouse something to work with for Christmas, birthdays or your anniversary. So, I’d almost rather show up empty-handed that fateful morning than spend the next two decades reminiscing about the “vacuum-cleaner Christmas.” I’ve seen other poor men walk that mile before.
This will come together. I will come across the perfect gift for Amelia sometime between now and Christmas. And when my wife reads this, she might be a little embarrassed I wrote it (I love you, honey).
In the meantime, the suggestion box is open.
Zack Plair is the managing editor for The Dispatch.
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