I may have mentioned one of those heartwarming little, “The best things in life aren’t things” kind of quotes in my last past (you know, about how the Perfect Daughter learned a new phrase to celebrate me).

Well, peeps, don’t get it twisted. I still like material things. Presents are extra-necessary. I would like to be all elevated and pseudo-spirituo-intellectual about it also and say things like, “Gifts are my love language,” (which, by the way, whoever came up with that was a genius-ly greedy little conniver by the way – saying, “Well, you’re going to need to get me something, and diamonds are a girl’s best friend and we are living in a material world and all that, because THAT’S HOW I’M PROGRAMMED TO UNDERSTAND LOVE) but that’s not me. I like presents, and I also like compliments, and I also like quality time. When it comes to love languages, I’m totes multilingual.


But anyway.

So, I like gifts, but I’m not totally tied to getting them. They are just a bonus on top of all the other great things in my #blessed and #highlyfavored life. (Please, please know those hashtags are meant to be ironic. Please.) And, judging from a conversation with my mom, and the ensuing actions therewith, that’s a good thing.

Mom: Hey – so I was looking at some things online and did you know that I could sell ya’ll’s old table in the backyard for $168 on ebay? 

Me: Or you could give it to me for N. 

Mom: No, I’m not giving it to you. If I give you all the toys, you’ll never bring her to my house to play with them. 

Okay, so she has a point there (but never fear, Momma, once she gets big enough to stay away from home, she’s yours for long periods of time in the summer, because baby tickets to Europe cost the same as adults and more money on baby airfare means less money for wine, cheese, macarons and afternoon tea on vacay).

So, one week later:

Mom: So, I was looking on Amazon and those little tables are ((( insert dollar amount, can’t remember what she said… )))

Alright, so we’re back to the little tables. Hmm… let’s continue this conversation and hopefully it ends with a table coming posthaste to Chateau de Noelle.

And this is where the conversation takes a turn.

Mom: So, I was thinking, is it okay if I buy Noelle a table, and that can be your birthday present? 

Screech. Halt. Hold the phone. Whaaaat (please imagine that in Thomas Jefferson a la Hamilton voice – just go listen to “We Know” if you don’t know what I’m talking about. The whole song is worth it for that one syllable. For real.)?!

Is this the point we’ve reached in life? Adult birthdays are sublimated to give babies more things? My present is a table and chairs, which unfortunately, I’m about 3 feet too tall to use? Whaaaaat?

So, you can imagine how this went down. Two days later (thanks, Amazon Prime) we unwrapped a new tiny-person table and chairs. And the Baby Person immediately took possession; she didn’t even consider that they might be MY birthday table and chairs before making herself right at home. 

Now, her favorite activity to do with them is not coloring, or tea party. It’s standing on the chair and practicing her “schomping” (stomping – seriously performed by yelling “Schomp!” and holding on to the back of the chair, then stomping until she falls or flips. Fun.) or flipping the table upside down to sit on it.

It’s okay, though, because I’ve already picked out a new purse that I need and planned a trip to Sephora to restock on my makeup for January…. that’s right… for my mom’s birthday.

 

 

PS I think Tina (my madre) would want you to know that I am not at all actually upset with her and that I think this was thoughtful of her and very funny, not angering. Also, she sent me a birthday card with a little something in it too. 😉

 

 

 

 

PPS She expressly told me “not to write a blog post about this, so the above disclaimer is for when she next logs on and reads this.

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