What was your favorite Christmas gift?

Often, mine is one I gave. Growing up, I loved messing with my greedy little sister. One year she wanted a fan brush for her oil paints. So I got one for her and put it in a GIANT box and wrapped it up. Then I took a pencil and taped hair procured from my hairbrush into the shape of a fan at the end of the pencil. Then I wrapped it very obviously in the shape of a fan brush. Both the “brush” and the real brush in the giant box went under the tree. Christmas morning, with nary a greeting, she raced to the tree, grabbed the obviously wrapped brush, and yanked off the wrapping. When she saw it was nasty hair taped to a pencil… well, she was mad. And she threw it across the room. That’s when I decided: I’m never going to ask for particular gifts ever again, because I never want to seem that selfish and greedy. You can ask my dear daughter Maggie the nightmare of wanting to give her mother a gift but having to pay attention to who I am to find just the right thing. Which, she knows, also isn’t necessary – I just want time with her. I don’t want things.

But, I must say, child nailed it with the most lovely, most thoughtful, most time-together-reading-this gift I have ever received. As you can see from the picture above, the a book by Charlie Mackesy titled The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse. It is glorious. The text, the pictures…glorious. I bet they have it down at Maria’s or Y.E.S.S. The Book Hutch. Go grab a copy for yourself, your parents, your kids, your aunt, your uncle, your friend, your hairdresser, your whomever. And that’s all I have to say about that.