Over the past few weeks, when Nicholas has asked me to buy something for him when we’re out, my standard refrain has been, “Perhaps that’s something you can ask for as a birthday present.” With his sixth birthday fast approaching (this Saturday!), he has developed a short, but very specific, list of things he has deemed “must haves.”
Yesterday when we were out, I told him a great birthday present for ME (since mine is actually before his, thankyouverymuch) would be to have the inside of my car cleaned out. Like a really good, deep down cleaning, the kind that removes six-month old Chex Mix long since ground into the floor. My mom will tell you that she’s certain there’s a Science experiment back there, just waiting to happen. While I defend the car’s condition on my lack of time, it’s not quite that bad, but a good cleaning is in order. Although I would love it, I might be too cheap to get it professionally detailed and cleaned, but I would settle for Nick and The Husband doing it themselves for me. Sounds like a good present, right?
To which Nicholas replies, “But Mom, you’re not supposed to tell people what you want. It’s a surprise!”
Is he kidding? No? Then I’d like to discuss the little list of stuff he wants that I’ve been busy cataloguing… taking away any potential surprise for him. It’s ok for him to tell me what he wants, but I can’t tell him what I want. As he told me, “It’s different, Mom,” complete with eye roll. Geesh.