Every year for Christmas, I get my mother a snow globe.
And she hates it.
Smoop collects angels — she has for years, and probably has hundreds of them — and I’ve probably given her more than anyone. But you can only buy someone so many angels.
So about five years ago, I found a fancy-pants snow globe with an angel in the middle (perfect, right?!) — it played christmas music and everything. Fancy-pants, like I said. She opened it on Christmas morning, and told me how much she loved it.
About a year later, I was at her house helping her decorate for Christmas, and she pulled the snow globe out of one of her holiday totes from the attic.
She held it up, looked at it for a few seconds, turns to me and says, “I hate this.”
I said, “Uhh, I gave that to you last year. You said you liked it.”
“You didn’t give it to me. I think grandma gave it to me.”
“Um, no. I gave it to you.”
“… I don’t hate it,” she said, very unconvincingly.
And so, ever since then — she gets a new one each year. And while my initial intentions were good, now I try to find the ugliest snow globe possible.
Merry Christmas, Smoop.