The way to Nathan’s heart is not a present. Don’t get me wrong, he likes them, but he’s the kind of guy that requests that his presents consist of spending time with family. This year I asked him if he wanted anything, and he actually had a few things to list off. There have been times that he said he didn’t want anything and I got him something, only to have it returned. This year I listened and got him something from the list and I took the kids to Clay Your Way to paint a mug for him (he LOVES coffee drinks).
I stressed many times that they shouldn’t tell daddy what they got him for his birthday or where we had been. They picked out a giant mug, paint colors, and collaborated on the design. Moriah did the decorating and writing the message on the mug. I helped as little as possible cause I truly wanted it to be a gift from the kids and not one I pick out then say it’s from the kids. The store will fire it and it will be ready in a few days. Each time I told the kids not to tell daddy they both said okay. Oftentimes I’m a little reluctant to believe that Noah has paid attention to anything I’ve said. But when Nathan came home on Tuesday they didn’t say anything about it when he asked what they did that day.
After supper yesterday Nathan opened his gift from me (frizbee golf discs–a putter and a driver, anyone else heard of frizbee golf?) He wants to be able to play this summer with his basketball buddies. Anyway, the kids’ gift won’t be ready until next week, and I told him that. About half way through the cheesecake, Noah looks up with bright, excited, and anxious eyes and says,
“Mom, can we tell Daddy we got him a cup, yet?!”
Nathan is really good at holding laughter when it needs to be. I’m not.
I looked at him and said as sympathetically and sweetly as possible through suppressed laughter, “No, sweetie. Let’s keep it a secret a little bit longer.”
After that I think it sunk in that daddy was sitting right there and he probably heard what was just said. Noah hung his head, embarrassed. And I? I continued to giggle. Kind of like when that man farted aloud during our dance class, only this time my laughter wasn’t as loud.