Picture this, it’s early November, 1986, I’m all of nineteen years old, I know e
Picture this, it’s early November, 1986, I’m all of nineteen years old, I know everything about the real world, I’ve lived and experienced enough to believe I’m fully capable of being a contributing member of adult society and all that it offers. When someone has the audacity to mention my youth and inexperience, I scoff, loudly and quite rudely, I’m sure. I can’t be told be anyone that I have more to learn, I know that I’m an adult and though I still can’t buy a beer or get into a club, I am a grown up. I can do what I want, within reason of the law, of course. I can sleep when I want, within reason of my adult job that drains the life from me. I can eat what I want, within reason of trying not to become a diabetic by gorging on all the candy I can. I can stomp my feet and wave my arms and throw a fit to prove that I am an adult and can make my own choices! I’m mature enough to be responsible and I budget what little money I make to be sure that I have what I need to survive until my next paycheck, hell, I’ve registered to vote! Well, it’s the middle of November and unlike now, the Christmas decorations are just starting to show up in stores and malls and people are gearing up for the endless shopping and applying for new credit cards that have interest rates that can actually be claimed on a tax return and children are starting to push for the endless list of toys they want from Santa and all of us grown ups are starting to feel the excitement of the season. My betrothed and I have been living together for just over a month and have stars in our eyes about our first Christmas as a couple and we walk hand in hand through the malls and Montgomery Wards and Sears and the like, happily pointing out things we may or may not want to find under the tree this year. He points out things he needs, some new jeans, a pair of the latest Nikes, a tool box and I smile and make note in my mind of everything he looks at. Mind you, he doesn’t ask for anything and I don’t ask him what he wants, that’s just not how it’s done. No, we are subtle with our wants, we don’t want to be greedy or selfish, we couldn’t possibly pick up an item and turn to each other and say something like, “I really want this for Christmas”. Instead, we drop hints and I ooh and aah over certain things, a scarf here, a fancy pair of gloves there, until I walk into the toy section at Montgomery Wards, then all bets are off. You see, as a child, Wards was the place to shop in my family. Every year, my mother would hand my brother and I the toy catalog the store put out and a marker and tell us to mark what we wanted for Christmas. Let me tell you something, that book got back to her with more marker than you can imagine and she would grin at our greedy little faces and we just knew that Santa was getting one hell of a list from her for us. Christmas morning would arrive and like the nut she was, you can bet every one of the items we circled would be under and around that tree, some years, you couldn’t see the floor and it would take hours to open everything. For her, she had succeeded in making our dreams come true and for us, as you can imagine, we would be out of her hair for at least a few months, so I guess it was a trade off of sorts. Ah, the joys of the holidays. Back to that fateful trip into the Montgomery Wards at the Glen Burnie Mall. My man and I wandered through, having not been children for so many years and we laughed and marveled at the items that we wished had been available to us as children. There were no computers in every home, I mean, we had just bought our first VCR!!! At this point, I will remind anyone too young to remember, that a VCR was a VHS tape recorder/player and had just become the hottest electronic one could buy and it was still a very novel item. They were expensive at about three hundred dollars and we were extremely proud to own one and date nights out quickly became a trip to the video rental store and Dominoes pizza was just starting to become a weekly indulgence for movie night. Essentially, it was our Netfilx and chill. But, I digress. On that fateful night, as we wandered around, I came upon a Teddy Ruxpin doll and was blown away. As per Wikipedia, Teddy Ruxpin was an animatronic children’s toy, in the form of a talking bear that’s mouth and eyes moved while “reading” stories that were played on an audio tape cassette deck built into its back. In other words, it was the coolest damn thing I had ever seen and I instantly wanted one. Now, I know, as an adult, I had absolutely no reason whatsoever to have one. It wouldn’t be an item that could help me be that amazing adult that I had become and in no way, shape or form would it prove my maturity and experience that I so proudly displayed at all other times, but he was the most bad-ass toy I had seen and my desire to own one was almost equal to my excitement over the wedding dresses my mother and I had recently shopped for. I didn’t come right out and ask my love to buy him for me, no, I was still an adult, dammit, but I know that I showed a level of enthusiasm and excitement over that bear that he hadn’t ever seen in me and was sure that I succeeded in expressing my strong desire to see one under our pretty little Christmas tree that year. Over the next few weeks, I spoke of that bear in front of him to my parents when we visited, to the point that my mother outright asked me if I wanted her to buy it for me and privately, with hearts in my eyes, I told her in no uncertain terms, that my love would buy it. Well, I had looked at Teddy several times over the next few weeks, always stopping to play with the displays in each store that sold them, so I was very aware of how big the box was and when a similar box appeared under our tree two weeks before Christmas, lovingly wrapped in red paper with a green bow, I did a little happy dance, while he was in the shower of course, I couldn’t show him that I knew what it was in that box, that would have just been rude. Christmas eve, we happily went to his parents house to celebrate, receiving adult gifts, I remember how happy I was to receive an ironing board and beautiful luggage set and was thrilled by the pretty sweater my future mother in law picked out for me. And oh, the new under the counter can opener was amazing, you mounted it into the cabinets to save counter space and, just, wow! I am in no way being a smart-ass, (I know, me, not being a smart-ass), but I’m not. Those gifts were spectacular to me and my adult life and I knew my parents had purchased us a microwave that I would be receiving the next day, so I was extremely happy. We arrived back at our apartment just before midnight and decided we were just too excited to wait until the next morning to exchange all the wonderful gifts and once settled, started to hand each other wrapped items with grins and winks and oh, it was so very romantic. I smiled at the clothes that weren’t an exact match to what I had pointed out, but close enough and in the correct sizes, so I was touched and the little stuffed rabbit that I knew cost a fortune was so sweet and would become my daughter’s first stuffed animal a couple of years later. I took such pride watching him open the new jeans and shoes and manly gadgets I had lovingly picked out. He saved the large box for last and I will never forget the happy look on his face as he slid it to me as we sat on the floor in front of the tree. I restrained from tearing the paper apart like an animal, gently pulling it from the box while inside, my inner child was ready to pee myself and all I could think about was whether or not we had extra batteries in the kitchen junk drawer so I could play with Teddy right away. My fingers were shaking and I could see his reaction to my excitement and I was gearing up to show my appreciation as I slowly tore the paper from the front of the box. My eyes widened and my breath caught as I gazed upon the box, it was beautiful, exquisite even and I had to shield my reaction from him as I looked over the picture on the front of that box, the same exact size as the Teddy Ruxpin box, the same exact shape. The picture showed a gorgeous, hand crafted jewelry box and my mind took a few moments to catch up to my hands as I tilted it back to fully look at the picture on the front. He took my speechlessness as a sign of my awe at such a precious gift, my moments of silence allowing me to become fully aware of being an adult and in that moment, I matured and became the woman that I had believed I was already as I turned to him with a huge smile and threw my arms around him to show my gratitude. The moral of the story for all you little shits out there, while you sit and confidently spout off about knowing what all the items under the tree are, be careful, you just never know what you will learn on Christmas each year. I just laughingly told my old man the Teddy Ruxpin story for the first time, expressing my disappointment and jokingly reminded him of his mistake and all he could do was laugh. I hated that damn jewelry box, with a fiery passion, though he never knew it and you know what else I hated, that damned Teddy Ruxpin! -- source link
#for fun