Christmas Calendar Remorse

Granma cheated. Adella asked to open a second present from our family Christmas calendar similar to the one Pop Pop had as a child--a blue Danish calendar with twenty-four red numbers and little rings for presents. Granma had missed the mark with Adella’s first present, a glitter pen. Because we were a day behind, both Adella and Marshall opened a present that day. Adella looked at the glitter pen and then at the light up Paw Patrol ball Marshall opened up. She was not satisfied. So, Adella, being Adella, asked to open a second present. Granma, being Granma, said “Yes.”

Adella tore into the second package, a small Paw Patrol coloring sheet and crayons. It far better suited her expectations. But almost immediately she began experiencing Christmas calendar remorse. I had allowed her to skip ahead, breaking tradition by opening a present two days early. One present per day was a hard and fast rule in her five-year-old mind, and she had defied the true order of Christmas.

Adella pouted in her remorse until she came up with a solution. “I know Granma,” she said. “We can wrap this and put it back up on the Christmas calendar.”

“Well. . . ,” I said.

“I promise I won’t remember what it is,” she added.

Highly unlikely. But I understood her remorse. I often experience remorse. Usually after a major purchase like an appliance, a car, or a house. Any remorse over a Paw Patrol toy, however, would be related to my succumbing yet again to a heavily hyped, mass marketed cheap tchotchke.

“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “I am sure we will have enough presents.”

I knew what Adella did not know. First, she did not know that I abhor wrapping presents. I was not about to wrap a present a second time to assuage her remorse. Second, she did not know that the traditions surrounding the Christmas calendar are not as codified as she believes. During the busy years when her mother was a teenager, the presents almost never got wrapped and attached to the calendar. I simply threw trinkets at my three kids. Third, she did not recognize the generous margin of error in Granma’s Christmas calendar, for Adella is not at my house everyday in December. And in case of raging sibling rivalry, I have a generous stash of extra presents in my bedroom. And finally, she did not know (and perhaps will never know) that one year early in my marriage, I ate all the chocolates in an Advent calendar my mother-in-law sent me in a single sitting.

I do not know what happened to the Paw Patrol coloring sheet and crayons. It mysteriously disappeared. More than likely it found its way into one of the myriad of backpacks or suitcases that Adella dutifully totes between my home and hers. But I do know that her remorse was short-lived. Today, without pause or remorse, she gleefully opened a new present.