When I was a kid I was a present counter, strongly adhering to she who dies with the most toys win. Nowhere in the saying was there mention of the most-expensive toys or highest-quality toys. No, it was sheer quantity that mattered.
Even though I have long grown out of my present-grubbing stage, I still adhere to the quantity thing as far as my niece and nephews are concerned. Sure, I spend the same amount of money on them because I’m a grown up and realize, logically, how that’s the most fair (and if ever there was someone with a keen sense of justice, it’s me). But I know, that to kids they’re counting those gifts. It’s all a numbers game.
Sadly, numbers and I have never had a very good relationship.
Tonight I began to dismantle the shanty town near my door made up of UPS and wrap the gifts. The more I wrapped and glanced at receipts the more I realized the numbers had betrayed me. Somehow I had managed to short each of the Tibbles $15 in gifts and still have five separate presents for them. Math sucks.
Now, I know the Tibbles would never even notice. In fact, nobody would even notice. But I would and while I realize that the amount of your love is not measured in the money you spend, I don’t care. And besides, I kind of wanted to Cade, the budding artist, 500 sheets of construction paper anyway.