The Gifts that Keep on Giving?

My two year old comes looking for me, because he has something he wants to give me. I'm thinking, "Oh, how sweet! This is going to make my morning!" What does he have for me? A booger. Yes. Specially selected for me, I'm sure. And one of a kind. But, still, a booger.

Anyway, it got me thinking about all the gifts I gave to my parents as a child, and how I feel really badly about some of them. Almost mortified. Ought to apologize, actually. I specifically remember the first Christmas I had saved enough pocket change to buy something for each member of the family all by myself. I chose all the items from one store (why not go for convenience and efficiency?). How I selected the store, I can't recall. It probably had the most colorful flier on Sunday or the most sales (way to go advertising department!). But whatever my motivation, I remember being super excited as I planned out my purchases, and we headed off to Michael's (yes, Michael's, of all places. I guess Walmart had yet to assert it's dominance...)

I don't remember what I purchased for my sisters. They probably didn't even pretend to like the stuff, and it's long since been tossed. =) But I do remember all the things I made for my mother. I bought a small undecorated wooden wreath and tied bells to it with green string. It was too small to hang anywhere but a doorknob. I have no idea what I thought she was going to do with it! If that weren't enough, I also made her an ornament. I made a green paper cup into a bell by running string through the bottom and attaching a collection of staples inside. (Her favorite color is green, you see.) It did NOT actually jingle. Finally, I made her a mixed tape. Oh, not just any mixed tape. A recording of myself, singing all the songs I knew...and many that I didn't. Where I knew the words but not the melody, I made it up. It's really horrifying to think about it.

And what do you do with gifts like that? I'm sure she accepted them with inordinate graciousness. Is that part of some unspoken "Mom code?" Do I really have to accept dead bugs, even when presented by children with bright shining eyes? (Let me go ahead and answer that rhetorical question for you. No, no I do not.) Do I have to keep EVERY paper ever scribbled on "just for me?" There's got to be a compromise, because I have one child who is, at best, destined to become a pack rat and, at worst, demonstrating tendencies of a hoarder! He would claim every bit of free wall space in the house if there were enough sticky tack on earth, and that which I don't display is kept in a box that becomes fuller by the day!

I guess it comes down to what you value and why. Some things are valuable because of what they are. It's intrinsic. Some things are valuable because of WHO gives them. It's transferred. It's sentimental. I can't promise I'll keep every piece of paper. It's just inconceivable. (Anybody want a peanut?) But I can understand how something seemingly worthless to almost everyone else, might become priceless to me, simply because it was given by someone I love...who loves me too.

But not boogers. Never boogers.