Christmas past

Once upon a time, like Christmas 1994, Eric and I were up in his room exchanging gifts. We weren't engaged yet (that would come two months later, on Valentines Day), but he would throw out little phrases like when we're married, or when we have kids. Not that I was expecting a ring or anything--I thought he'd give me some concrete evidence if THAT were the case--but I certainly was expecting something a little better than a troll doll.

Yes, you read that correctly. A troll doll. These things:

I have never understood the allure.

I had just given Eric his gift, which was, I'll admit, not much better than a troll doll: A pair of loose fitting pajama pants that were all the rage in the early '90s and a sort of matching t-shirt. Hey, that's what he'd wanted. Kind of. The pants, at least.

So I'm sitting there already feeling embarrassed by my lameness. He's being very cool about the whole thing. And then he flips me a shoe-box sized package.

Inside the tissue paper is a troll doll, bright pink hair to offset its red Christmas pajamas. This thing is huge. This thing is awful.

As I sat there, staring into the box, I wondered if I'd ever given him the idea that I liked troll dolls. I wondered why he thought this would be a good thing to give me. I wondered if maybe I was being a brat. I wondered how on earth I was going to pretend to like the damn thing.

He let me stew for about 15 seconds before he started giggling--the sound of Eric's giggle is the best sound in the world--and told me he was just kidding. He had gotten it in his office's White Elephant gift exchange and he thought it would be a funny prank. The look on my face when I opened it was hilarious. He was ever so proud of himself.

Hardy har har.

And also: THANK YOU, JESUS.

Then he hands me another box, clearly from the jewelers. (More lame feelings on my part over the pajama pants.) And inside is lovely, tiny, understated heart charm on a delicate little chain.

Well, damn. It's absolutely perfect.

So he's putting it on me and casually telling me how the girl behind the counter helping him kept offering to try the necklaces on for him "to give him an idea of how they'd look on a person," and how he thought that was annoying but finally let her, and I'm all, um, it's because you're so cute. She liked you. And he was all, really? I don't think so. And I was like, trust me. You're adorable.

And then I was all, I don't really have to keep the doll, right?

Nope. He gave it to one of his nieces instead. (Deepest apologies to whomever ended up with it. Really.)

The end.