Happy Boxing Day! (A holiday I had never heard of until I moved to Canada.) Yesterday was a pleasant, peaceful family time, spent eating and reading and playing new board games. There's nothing quite so sweet as having your six-foot fourteen-year-old son ask you to play with him...and not an electronic gizmo in sight.
My son's gift from his uncle was a voice-activated alarm clock. To turn her on you say "Hello, Ivy." You give her verbal commands to set the time and sound, etc. She responds in a cultured English accent. My son confessed that when he tells her to "Set Date," he feels like he's asking her out.
My husband's gift to me was dog sledding. I have had it on my Bucket List for years and I won't feel truly Canadian until I've tried it. There's something in me that longs to swoop forward through blinding white snow and bright freezing air behind a team of dogs. Maybe I've read too much Farley Mowat. To me it is the perfect, most thoughtful gift, an adventure I will treasure. Not because of the thing itself, but because of the loving insight (and patient sacrifice) behind it.
Now let's just hope it snows!