I have only snooped at Christmas presents once in my whole life. I don’t remember how old I was; maybe six or seven. I wanted this certain Barbie doll so impossibly bad. Remember how one little thing like a doll seemed like your whole life?
I found my mother’s stash of Christmas presents in one of the spare closets. I would sneak back on a daily basis and look at one certain gift with my name on it. I would stare at it until I heard my mother looking for me.
Finally, I couldn’t bear it anymore. Just a few days before Christmas, I peeled back the paper on the corner of my present, and saw that familiar bright Barbie pink. And I knew.
I knew.
Instead of feeling giddy for knowing that I would get that Barbie I’d longed for, I felt disappointed in myself. Now I knew that Christmas wouldn’t be as special. It wouldn’t be as fun, because the surprise was gone. Granted, I was spoiled and got more than one present; still, it felt like I had ruined the spirit somehow.
I never snooped after that. I don’t even think I ever told my mother (sorry, Mama). But no punishment could have taught a better lesson- a lesson I had taught myself already.
Oh these blogs bring up so many fun memories of my own... I remember in my parents old house, in their bedroom they had this big cabinet (I don't really know what you would call it) but they put their t.v. on it... anyway, underneath was a top you could open and all us kids knew that this is where they hid the xmas gifts... so one day I took it upon myself to snoop... I think they were out of running errands... but still I was cautious to listen for them to come home... but to this day I can't recall what it was that I got, what I had been looking for... funny.
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