by Brianna Popsickle

Created on: December 19, 2009   Last Updated: December 21, 2009

It’s happened to all of us. Someone hands you a gift with a big smile on their face excited for you to unwrap the gift they’ve spent precious time and money choosing just for you. You slowly unwrap it, anticipation building, only to reveal a hideous gift. You force a smile and say thank you, in your most convincing tone. 

This was a regular occurrence when my family, aunts, uncles and cousins gathered at my grandmothers for Christmas. She was in her eighties and insisted on buying and wrapping a gift for everyone. Sometimes she’d get the name tags mixed up so you never knew what to expect. If it was clothing she insisted you try it on. I’ll never forget the expression on everyone’s faces as my sister walked down the stairs wearing stretch pants that stretched all the way up to her armpits. The last couple of years my grandmother decided to give each of her fifteen grandchildren ten dollars. Great idea, only some got two envelopes, some got empty envelopes and some got envelopes with three ten dollar bills in them. Luckily we all knew that with gift giving, it’s the thought that counts. 

It’s one thing when an eighty-year old grandmother messes up but what about when Santa messes up? 

When I was eight there was just one thing I wanted for Christmas, a Barbie dollhouse. Christmas morning came and my sisters and I tore through our gifts. My heart sank as I realized I didn’t get the one thing I’d hoped for. Just then my dad said, “It looks like Santa had trouble fitting one of the gifts under the tree, come check out the playroom Brianna!” 

I ran to the playroom and there it was, a beautiful two-story dollhouse with windows, doors and furniture in every room!  I turned to my parents and could see they were thrilled for me. I threw my arms around them and told them I loved it! 

There was just one problem. Next to the dollhouse lay five, two-inch high rubber dolls that came with the house. It wasn’t a Barbie house, it was a house for the little ugly dolls. My heart sank. I was disappointed for me, but I was even more disappointed for my parents. I never let them know Santa messed up and although I never really played with the dollhouse, I still have it today. Each year we go through things to put in our yard sale and my husband wonders why I don’t just get rid of it. I’ll never get rid of it because it meant so much to them to give it to me. Remember

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