The Christmas Angel

When I was a kid, “The Christmas Angel” would stop by every four or five days beginning on December 1 and ending on Christmas Eve. Said Angel left small gifts on the kitchen table, often a piece of candy, sometimes a little toy worth a dollar or two, and her visits were eagerly anticipated and greatly appreciated by me and my brothers.

I told my husband about this critical part of my childhood relatively early in our relationship, hoping that he’d take the hint and begin fulfilling the function that my parents no longer do (since I’m, you know, an adult now and live halfway across the country). When he didn’t become The Angel of his own spontaneous will, I eventually suggested—gently, of course, and in the subtlest of manners—that he should begin donning her glittery Christmas wings.

Yes, I’m shameless when it comes to the prospect of receiving (usually edible) gifts.

To be fair, it’s not a one-way street: I’m The Christmas Angel for him, too, though I get the distinct impression that he only pretends to be excited when I leave a present and note from The Christmas Angel on the table because he knows how much pleasure I take in Christmas traditions like this one. But who cares? He gets some candy, and I get to experience the joy of giving. It’s a win-win, in my book.

I’ll admit that I haven’t clarified a relatively unimportant point regarding The Christmas Angel to him, one regarding the size of the gifts that she typically gives. The fact that I’ve failed to do so may or may not be a tad self-serving. I’m sure that during our first Angel-related conversation, I mentioned that she’s a dollar-store-toy kinda gal; when he started buying larger, nicer things for me, I didn’t see fit to protest.

This brings me to the other day, when The Christmas Angel/my doting husband¹ brought a stuffed gingerbread person (Squishables® brand—my favourite!), purchased at a local toy store.

IMG_6788
Note Santa Puppy giving some serious side-eye from behind Ginger; I think he knows that he’s being outshadowed.

Thanks, Christmas Angel! I have my eye on the LEGO Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum®, in case you’re looking for other ideas.


¹My husband asked me this morning if The Christmas Angel is her own being or rather a spirit that comes and “possesses” another body, thus enabling it to act on her behalf. I’ll have to think about this a little more before deciding for sure, but my gut instinct is that the answer is whatever gets me better Christmas Angel presents.

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