When I first heard the idea come out of my sister in law’s mouth over a month ago, I thought to myself ” this idea is a joke ” and waited for someone, anyone else, to agree with me and vocally squash the idea of our family making homemade gifts for Christmas this year. Other than her, ( and maybe Mum) none of us boys are the crafty sort, nor do we really have the time or energy to do this.
But no one spoke. In fact, everyone thought it was a good idea. We each picked out names of the person we were to make our gift for. I picked Flooey, my youngest niece at a mere 15 months old. I knew I was screwed.
As the days passed and Christmas drew near, I still had nothing. No ideas. I briefly thought that maybe I could buy something that looked homemade, and that I might be able to pass this off. Flooey would have no idea, but I didn’t want to cheat, not on Christmas.
Like a good swift kick in the arse, it came to me. I gathered some small possessions that mean a great deal to me. I wrote a letter to Flooey, the contents of which will not be divulged here. I put the letter and the possessions into a box, sealed it up with ribbons, and attached a Christmas card.
I made her a little time capsule, not to be opened until she is eighteen. One wonders if it will have the impact I hope for after all that time has passed, or if she will still have the box. I hope so.
In retrospect, the idea of making our own gifts was probably the best idea ever.