Grown Up Christmas Lists

I was at the grocery store the other day, as usual, when I heard a cashier say something a little unusual.  

“Now that I’ve grown up, there’s nothing I really want for Christmas.”  

Um, WHAT?  

First of all, this young woman may have been 21. Twenty-five, tops. So I’d hardly throw her in the “grown up” pile yet. I’m lots of years older than that, and whenever I’m around my mother, I’m not very grown up at all.  

Secondly, I’m seriously considering dragging this poor cashier over to my house. Because my kids, who also think they’re all “grown up”, did not get the “there’s nothing I really want for Christmas” memo. They got the “there’s nothing I really want for Christmas, but a few things” memo. Big difference.  

Oldest child only wants a digital camera. That seemed reasonable enough. Except that what he really needs is a ton of work done on his car before he (finally, fingers crossed, please, please, please, Lord) graduates college and drives off on his own into that sweet world all the actual grown-ups call “Work”.  

And, because he’s an English major (you can say it in a la-ti-da British accent. That’s what we do), he needs books. Not those every day, used paperback, kind of books. Oh, no. These books have been published once, seventeen years ago, at a Norwegian press that is now defunct. Translation: Expensive.  

But that’s all he really wants, Santa. Besides, food, of course. Let’s not forget that the little darling will be around to eat us out of house and home for the holidays.  

Middle child doesn’t really want anything special, she insisted. And she especially doesn’t want any surprises. Couldn’t she just go shopping with Santa and get what she really wants?  

Well, okay. That sounded very reasonable. Though to be honest, Santa’s rather big on surprises. But good old Santa agreed to middle child’s terms, on account of them being so reasonable and such.  

By the end of the Shopping Day Extravaganza, Santa’s feet were killing her. Her sled was full. Her sack was packed. She’d checked her list. Twice.  

That’s all middle child really wants, right, Santa? Wrong, Santa. Have you forgotten surprises? Santa could pick them from the (second) list, carefully prepared by (once) reasonable middle child.  

Youngest child, oh youngest child, your wants are ever…huge. Youngest child is still a teenager. So technically, he really is not very grown-up at all. Maybe that explains his Christmas list.  

All he wants, he announced, is two golf clubs. Just two? That seemed extremely reasonable. I mean, don’t those things come in sets? But then, Mr. Santa enlightened Santa.  

Do you know how much a 3 wood costs? One skinny little stick with a head on the end? A stick that has to be fitted to youngest child’s measurements, for crying out loud? And he wants two of these things? And some extra lessons? And a practice membership?  

Whew! But Santa agreed. Because all of that golf stuff comes under Mr. Santa’s responsibilities.  

So that’s all youngest child wants, Santa. (But he positively has to have a new pair of Nike’s. And a golf jacket to keep the wind off his precious torso. And those special golf shirts with collars like Tiger wears. C’mon, Santa. You know that if you look good, you play good. Er, well. Anyway, the kid’ll definitely look good if he ever makes it out to an actual golf course.)  

As for my buddy, the cashier, I’ll bet she ends up giving Santa her “there’s nothing I really want for Christmas, but a few things” list. It’s the grown-up thing to do.