All I want for Christmas

I can assure you, it certainly is not my two front teeth.

Christmas is a funny time of year. If you let it, the obvious paradox between religious touchstone and commercial extravaganza can drive you mad with disgust. Instead, I choose to concentrate on more important matters; like what exactly is inside those packages under the tree....notably the ones with my name on them.

My wife and I have an understanding at Christmas. We don't go overboard, and we don't go into debt. It is also understood that I will break both of those rules while expecting her to abide by them. I love double standards. I am incredibly easy to buy for; all I really want is books or model trains to add to my collection. Amazingly, I rarely get either of those things. The books because I am known for opening one and spending the rest of the day reading it and ignoring everything else, and the trains because apparently nobody is confident enough to try and pick ones that I'll like. I figure it's pretty easy. If it has flanged wheels and a build date any time after 1970, it's a pretty safe bet I'll like it. Still, the problem remains.

My wife has a standing order for jewellery, which she has done pretty well with. Last year she got furniture instead - at her own request - but otherwise nary a year has come and gone without the glint of gold and/or diamonds. The obvious predictability aside, it simplifies my Christmas shopping greatly. One phone call to her mother (who works in a jewellery store) and I'm done! It does, however, complicate matters on another front.

Christmas should be all about the surprise. Unfortunately, my wife usually asks for something particular or even goes one step further and chooses her own present. While this has the advantage of ensuring that she'll like her gift, it completely destroys the mischief and subversion that comes with trying to surprise her with something great and unexpected. In short, it wrecks my fun. Although my wife usually has a pretty good idea that she's getting at least one piece of jewellery, she rarely knows which one. To try and keep her guessing, I am forced to take to deception each December to try and convince her that perhaps this will be the year the jewellery will give way to something else. In keeping with this theme, I try to diguise her presents and come up with new and inventive ways of changing their shape in order to conceal the true nature of the object within the gift. It makes me feel better, if only slightly, that at least surprise will factor some small part into her Christmas morning.

I suppose I would be somewhat amiss if I didn't admit that I usually have an excellent idea what I'm getting as well. Although my wife is prone to the temptation to buy me clothes instead of toys, I generally have some input into my primary gift. This year, however, she has given me a taste of my own medicine. I have absolutely no idea what I'm getting. In her typical prepared manner, she has already finished her shopping and has everything wrapped and ready. I have seen, felt, and hefted the gifts in question, and for the first time in my adult life I am completely stumped. Either I didn't get anything I asked for, or my wife has developed a wicked ability to disguise things- something that was never her strong suit before.

The reality of it is that I really don't care. I would be happy if she threw a pair of socks at me and said Merry Christmas. I've been telling her that what I really want is a weekend alone with her without having to worry about the kids catching on fire, but that unfortunately is seemingly harder to come by than enriched plutonium. Still, I am intrigued. I want to know what is inside those damn packages, and my wife knows it too. She has been walking around the house with this smug little look on her face because she knows she's got me. I have tried countering with a flirtatious "I know what you're getting for Christmas", but she won't bite. She has completely turned the tables on me this year and it sucks.

I can't wait for Christmas morning.