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Sara dragged me to the mall right before Thanksgiving because she needed to get a new cell phone. I was shocked that it had been transformed into a Winter Wonderland — red and green trimmings were everywhere, robotic reindeer “ate” who knows what while bobbing their heads in sparkling “snow,” and “fa la la la las” blasted from the speaker system.
“What’s going on?”
“Uh, it’s almost Christmas, Kat. It’s looked like this since Halloween. Where have you been?”
Obviously, thankfully, not at the mall.
I’m not a Grinch or a Scrooge; in many ways, this is the “most wonderful time of the year.” I totally get into the decorating, the music, the parties. But I hate that I’m expected to think about my loved ones’ wants and desires — as well as caring about those less fortunate — once a year.
Shouldn’t we think about that all the 00:31:36
And it’s even worse that the way I’m supposed to show how much I care is by buying something — “Whatcha get?!?” Sure, The Kid was pretty darn happy when an XBox appeared under the tree one year; I’ll bet he would have been just as happy — maybe even happier — if it appeared one day in his room “just because.”