Spoiled

Nobody likes a spoiled brat. Children should not get every toy and whimsy they fancy. I think we're all agreed on that. So for a grandparent it takes great restraint always, but especially at this time of year, to keep from picking up everything little (and big) that might bring even a moment's delight to the little tykes.

The truth is that if GrandBoy didn't get any new toys for the next two years, he'd have enough stuff to play with all the live-long day. But it's taking all of our willpower - and by "our" I'm including his mama and daddy - to resist picking up a few more little Thomas the Tank Engine train cars at the store or ordering everything that hums, honks, dings, and whistles online. The urge is overpowering. "Oh, he would love this!" and "I'd love to see his face when he opens that!" Is there a 12-step program for this?

The good news is that I haven't given in to these urges to purchase everything in sight for GrandBoy. Much. I chose one item off the gift wish list, found the absolute most perfect winter hat for him at the Grand Central Holiday Fair, and bought him a couple of books. Well, more than a couple of books; the stack seems to grow daily. (But books aren't toys, are they? Can you spoil a child with too many books? Help me out here, grandparents.)

Oh, yeah. And a friend was going to Hess to pick up a truck for her grandchildren. Did I want one for Liam? Of course, I did. I mean, the annual Hess truck is iconic, right? He needs one of those. Really. It lights up and makes noise and everything. Just made for my GrandBoy. So add that to the list.

I'm beginning to think that finding delightful things for our grandchildren has more to do with spoiling us than them. Is it completely selfish to want to see that first little flicker of surprise, then the smiles, and the play that follows when a gift is well-received? It's not the thing itself, it's the reaction and the way it's treated and used, that we wait for. Selfishly. OK. Maybe it is a little selfish. Maybe we're the spoiled brats, not the kids.

In the spirit of the season - and with every ounce of self-control that I can muster (thank goodness for limited discretionary spending) - I'm trying my best not to become a spoiled GrandMaryBrat. But that goal may be hard to achieve, since I do not need a reaction to a gift to spoil me. Every smile, string of jibber-jabber, plane-spotting, YoGabbaGabba dance, sleepy bed-head hug from GrandBoy spoils me beyond imagination. Perhaps I should just sit back and enjoy being spoiled for a while.

And maybe I'll save the Hess truck for GrandBoy's birthday.