No family is complete without the sibling or relative who makes horrible gift giving decisions during the holiday season. I’m sure we can all recall an instance where we asked Santa for an XBOX but instead received a Christmas sweater with over-sized snowmen and hollies shamelessly stitched around the entire article of clothing. I could write for days about the many times I was forced to fake enthusiasm for the gifts I received. However, I will spare you the torture and narrow my recollections to a single story. A story about a gift so horrible it would make receiving a Christmas sweater just as exciting as obtaining a flying Buzz Lightyear action figure.
It was Christmas Eve and my family was hosting a party for my mother’s side of the family. I was six years old, anxiously awaiting Santa’s arrival. My heart was full of anticipation because I had recently added a baby brother to my Christmas list and after two years of unanswered requests, I figured this could be my year. After chanting cult-like carols to summon the physical manifestation of Santa, he finally arrived with gifts in hand. When my name was called I went up to accept my gift. Santa handed me a small box. I remember thinking: “There’s no way even the smallest of baby brothers could fit in this thing.” Discouraged but not upset, I returned to my seat to see what my year of satisfactory behavior would yield. However, my excitement was halted by an immediate decrease in morale due to the fact that Santa’s beard had fallen off. I have never seen him clean shaven before but in that moment he bore an uncanny resemblance to my cousin Matt. Anyway, the shock and disappointment brought on by Santa’s rapid hair loss was nothing compared to the events that followed.
When I returned my attention to the gift it seemed like all eyes were on me. Parents and grandparents anxiously awaited my reaction to this mysterious item I had waited all year for. When I tore through the wrapping paper, I knew this would be a surprise because the gift was shaped like nothing I had ever seen before. When I removed all the paper my eyes fell upon the strangest toy I had ever scene. Inside a pink, glittery, box sat a device called The Fib Finder. After seeing the gift I quietly stated:
“I think this is a girl’s toy.”
However, my grandma quickly insisted that the toy was for both boys and girls. I found this hard to believe because the packaging displayed a photo of three pre-teen girls huddled around The Fib Finder, giggling and exchanging mischievous looks. Initially, I wanted nothing to do with the toy because I felt it was an unfortunate glitch in Santa’s distribution system. Regardless, my parents insisted that I give it a try before damming it to Christian hell. I reluctantly agreed to give the toy a chance after the party ended. Later that evening, I cautiously opened the box and pulled out The Fib Finder. It was a simple machine, with only one button in the center of the device. When I pressed the button it shouted three phrases.
“You're totally truthful.”
“Busted”
“Get out of here, girlfriend.”
My cries for the gift receipt fell on deaf ears as my parents insisted I play the game with them. After my father read the rules, I understood that each person would be asked a question from a stack of cards known as THE BOX OF SECRETS. The player being questioned was to give an answer and The Fib Finder would determine if you were telling the truth. When the game began, it was decided that I would draw first. I picked up the first card which read.
“Have you ever been kissed by a boy really cute?”
Frustrated by the risque nature of the question, I quickly answered, “No." My father pressed the button and we waited for my fate to be decided. After a few underwhelming seconds, the FIB FINDER spoke:
“Busted”
My parents began wheezing with laughter but I was not pleased. I stormed out of the room, insulted by The Fib Finder’s absurd accusation. However, as the days went by and the teasing spread from my parents to my siblings, I began to wonder if there was any truth to The Fib Finder’s claim. I remember staying up many nights wondering:
Did I do it? Did I kiss a boy, and if so, was he really so cute that THE FIB FINDER felt the need to tell everyone?
Fortunately, a few days later, all my questions were answered. It was bedtime and I had just slipped into my pajamas. I successfully passed bedtime inspection by stealing a piece of my mother’s peppermint chewing gum and passing it off as a thorough brushing of the teeth. I scampered off to bed and waited for my father to tuck me in. As I climbed under the covers my dad wished a good night’s rest. I leaned over, giving him a hug and a kiss. At that moment, it all came together. It was my dad! It turns out The Fib Finder was right! I had been kissing a boy every night before I went to bed for as long as I can remember. I slept well that night, knowing that I was not falsely accused by a twenty dollar toy. I am totally fine with the fact that I’ve kissed my dad, but I never thought he was very cute.
