This year, Son #1 and Son #2 are buying each other gifts using their own money. We took them to the store to pick out something for each other. Son #1 wanted to go with Momma, so Son #2 went with me.
He can’t say Christmas. He says Missmas. You should hear him say, “Ho ho ho! Merry Missmas!” It’s great.
On the way to the store, an old grey Toyota 4Runner almost rear-ended us as we yielded for oncoming traffic. That vehicle almost rear-ended another car, turning right into Walgreens while laying on the horn like it was a crime to turn right, and nearly pushed them into the parking lot.
Then, as we continued to the big concrete block superstore, a young lady pulled out in front of us, almost causing a collision. She looked at us as our tires screeched and brakes started smoking. She looked over at us, wondering what that sound was, and in the glow of our halogen headlights, her eyes were empty, like her cornbread wasn’t quite finished in the middle. She had no idea there were only three stop signs at that three-way stop.
We made it to the store and perused the aisles of toys, looking for the perfect gift. It was a lot of back and forth, “Son #2, what do you think your brother would like for Christmas? What do you want to buy him?”
“Um, a toy.” He would reply.
We looked at the plastic battery-powered dinosaur ATV with a real-looking dinosaur head and a mouth that chomped. We passed by the Legos and puzzles, games, and bicycles.
There were lots of, “Daddy, look that.” and “Daddy, where Momma?” He doesn’t put all the words in a sentence that should be there.
I kept reminding him he needed to pick something out for his brother.
Son #2 finally settled on several Hot Wheels.
While we were picking the Hot Wheels, I asked him what he wanted for Christmas. We’ve already bought all of his Christmas presents, but I was just making conversation.
He looked at me for a few seconds and asked, “Daddy, what you want for Missmas?”
He continued looking into my eyes like he was looking into my soul. He didn’t smile. He was as serious as an eleven-foot Christmas tree stuffed beneath a ten-foot ceiling. And he waited. He stood still and waited to hear what I wanted.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I told him. He listened.
Then, he smiled and said, “Oh, let get Daddy present.” I reminded him why we were there, and he continued to pick out gifts for his brother.
I can’t explain the feeling of my son sincerely caring about what I wanted for Christmas.
My heart grew three sizes that day.
to all the Grinches,
– Caleb
caneymountainblog.com 