The Futility, and Fickleness, of Gifts

 

           Before I begin my story, I feel like everyone should know I’ve graduated to that phase of life where I have to use a larger than 12-point font. I don’t understand how I can go to the eye doctor every year, and even though my eyes get worse and worse (and worse. Thanks Mom), she gives me an updated contact prescription so I can see the same. YET. My eyesight still gets worse? The amount of squinting at the clock I’ve begun doing in the past couple of years, is astonishing. Is there an adult merit badge for this?
            Anyway.
           The story of this post begins in the Fall of 1997. I was a newly minted 13-year-old, but this part of the story isn’t about me. It’s about Holly, my little sister. She was getting ready to turn 7 on Christmas that year (her name has nothing to do with being born on Christmas)(it’s the only name my parents could agree on)(well, that and April, but who the heck would name a kid April that was born on Christmas? Hindsight is 20/20. She’s frighteningly similar to the character of April on Parks and Rec, but I’m really digressing here)(ANYWAY).
           Christmas 1997 had all the cool kids getting excited about Razor scooters. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even seen a scooter at that point, but all of a sudden, they were everywhere. Holly wanted a scooter for Christmas. Badly. More than anything in the world.
           The one and only time either of my parents did anything remotely related to Black Friday shopping, was to get Holly the dang scooter that year. They got up at some terrible hour of the morning, and set out to find one. The first store they went to didn’t have a limit on how many could be bought, so by the time they got to them, they were gone. As they left, there were a few people checking out with shopping carts full of the things (I don’t know if they were buying them for all of the children in their lives, or if they were planning a Princess Unicorn type grift). After driving across town (at this point in Tyler, Tx’s history, useful stores were some distance apart from each other. It wasn’t the buzzing metropolis it is today)(it’s not a buzzing metropolis today), the second store they got to DID have a limit of two scooters per person, so they got their hands on one.
           At this point in the story, I cannot stress enough how much Holly wanted that scooter. It was all she talked about when Christmas presents came up. For the months of September, October, and November, if you asked Holly what she wanted for Christmas, she would have vehemently replied “A RAZOR SCOOTER.”
           Later in the day, on Black Friday, Angie (my big sister) asked Holly what she wanted for Christmas. This was Holly’s reply:
           “I wanted one of those Razor scooters, but not really anymore.”
           Bless the hearts of Bob and Linda Wright, who were trying to sleep off the lack of sleep they got by getting up in the dark of the night to retrieve said scooter for the baby of their family.
           Holly still got the scooter for Christmas.
           And then she sold it to a kid down the street for five bucks.
           The day after Christmas.  

           This catches all of us up on the back story for my current gift giving situation.
           Wait, hold on.
           First, let me tell you how I feel about the TV show “Bluey.”
           Erin loves the heck out of that show. She discovered it about a year ago, and promptly fell madly in love. Mike and I were amused by it (sometimes it makes me laugh out loud), but WE promptly fell OUT of love with it when Erin wanted to recreate Bluey’s family games. This wouldn’t be so bad if Bluey’s parents didn’t carry the weight of the games.

I got through about three rounds of magic xylophone before I just couldn’t deal with having my finger stuck up my nose while I’m frozen like a statue. Mike’s patience held out longer than mine. Thankfully, her exuberance for playing Bluey games has waned (I can’t remember the last time I had to be a statue or pretend things were heavy or whatever), but she still loves the show.
(you may have noticed this post is now center aligned, instead of left aligned. I'm going to assume this is another one of Bluey's games, because I can't undo it, so let's all roll with it.)
Side note: They ARE a family of heelers, and those are my favorite dogs.
Because of the light of my life:           

UGH. Look at that face. He was the goodest of all good boys.

So Bluey has that going for her.
Anyway.
This year for Christmas, one of the things Erin wants the most is this playset:

Has it been easy to acquire?
NO.
The journey to buy this started over a month ago. I knew November would be busy and half the world’s goods are stuck on boats off the coast of California, so I wanted to have all gifts purchased by November 1^st. I initially went to Target to get the toy, but they were out. After being assured more would arrive on a truck the next morning, I went bright and early the next day (the shelf with Bluey toys had one stuffed animal and a bunch of tumble weeds, so I didn’t want to take my chances on other parents, as crazy as I am, getting to it first). It did not arrive on the truck. At a different Target location (I ONLY went to two, y’all), an employee told me that they weren’t expected until a different truck came five days later.
At this point in my journey (this was a journey; I’m a different person now), I was so set on having every gift purchased RIGHT NOW, that I wasn’t going to wait five days for a truck.
So, I tried Walmart.
Online, Walmart said they had 3, but they lied so they didn’t. I sent Mike to do a pick up for it, and they tried to substitute it with something else.
If I wanted only her dad and their family car, I would’ve gotten only her dad and their family car, WAL. MART.
(after I typed that sentence, I thought of this scene from one of the best SNL skits of all time)

(that is not hyperbole; it is ONE OF THE BEST)
In the middle of all this, I checked on Amazon. They had it, but again, I was being psycho present lady and TWO-DAY SHIPPING was not fast enough for my Christmas spirit.
After bombing out at Walmart, I went back to Amazon.
They were sold out (this was just hours after last checking), and as Mike began looking around online, he found that people were buying them and then marking them up to $150.
$150 for a $45 playset.
OY.
At THIS point in my journey, I had become emotionally unattached to the toy, so I went back to Amazon to find a house for Erin’s small collection of Calico Critters. I found some knock off brand version that was adorable, and ordered it.
Well. It was nice while it lasted.
There were so many pieces to it, I had the forethought (the Holy Ghost???) to put it together in order to make sure everything was there.
Everything was not there.
In fact, there was a floor piece missing that was super vital to the integrity of the structure.
I threw everything back in the box, and returned it to Amazon. While on Amazon, I decided to hazard a search for that freaking. Bluey. playset.
Wonder of Wonders.
Miracle of Miracles.
It was in stock.
For a normal price.
I can’t remember the last time I clicked on “Buy Now” so fast.
In conclusion, if she sells this to someone for five bucks, there’s a good chance I’ll need to be committed.
Coincidentally, my mom has purchased a Razor scooter for Erin for Christmas this year. Because Erin has been dying to own a scooter. If she sells THAT for five bucks, then my mom will DEFINITELY need to be committed.