But it was mine, and it was a Star Wars ship. It meant I no longer had to "borrow" one of the myriad of ships the three boys down the street had when we played Star Wars (which, incidentally, was every.single.day). It didn't matter if I didn't know who he was, or that the little plastic mold in the back was actually Han Solo frozen. I finally had my own ship. It would be the only ship I ever received, as my parents had neither the money nor the inclination to shower me with every Star Wars toy available.
Exactly 25 years later, I sat in the same living room on Christmas morning. Only this time instead of footie pajamas and my little sister, I was there with my wife and nine month old daughter (who, incidentally, actually was wearing footie pajamas). My wife placed a small gift in my daughter's hands and, while trying to prevent her from putting the whole thing in her mouth (or at the very least slobbering all over it), lifted the munchkin to enable her to "hand" me the gift.
I carefully unwrapped the present (after being
What made these gifts immediately memorable? What ensured their preservation in my mind for years to come? Their promise of creating moments of joy, whether it was for a six year old SciFi Boy who just wanted to have what the other kids had, or for a father to reminisce about how big his daughter is getting every time they put up the Christmas tree and lay her palm over the tiny hand in the ornament.
This post is part of a Parent Bloggers Network blog blast entitled "What Makes A Gift Memorable?", sponsored by Excitations, a site designed to make gift giving fun and memorable for givers and receivers alike by offering a wide variety of "experience" gifts for all ages, interests, and budgets.
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