Our Christmas was fantabulous. How was yours? We did all of our visiting and eating and present-exchanging. We all had recovered from our colds and were in good spirits throughout the holidays. All four of us got ridiculously spoiled everywhere we went. And therein lies the one and only eensie, teensie, weensie issue. It’s miniscule. Very, very small.
The fact that we can barely breathe over here through the toys. Our house is stuffed air-tight.
Next year there will be a limit to how much everyone is allowed to buy Eirinn. Two toys each. They can buy as much clothing and as many books as they want (because who am I to say she can’t be well dressed and well read?), but two toys ONLY. And if they just have to buy more than that, go for it, but it’s staying at their house.
Of course, they only have the best of intentions. She is, in fact, the only grandchild/niece on either side, so who else are they going to spoil? And it’s not the spoiling, per se, that I’m against. Not at all. It’s the clutter. The mounds upon mounds of brightly coloured plastic that has now turned itself into our main floor decorating scheme. There are princess kitchens and Dora tents and magnetic easels and Magnedoodles and giants blocks and T-ball sets everywhere. Everywhere.
Eirinn loves it. Everything she got is her new favourite toy. She thinks we should do this Christmas thing every day.
And, I must admit, if I had a niece or nephew, there’s no doubt I would be spoiling the crap out of her or him. And this spoiling would also take the form of brightly coloured plastic.