Every year it starts earlier: Holiday music in stores, Christmas decorations, gift catalogues. It's no longer the holiday season; it's pretty much the holiday quarter of the year.
Suffering under the influence, Evan has already started and revised his Christmas list more than once or twice. Taking a trip to the hobby shop has deteriorated from a fun morning to a hand wrenching, angst producing event-- each time leaving with another revision of that list in mind: Rock polisher, telescope, steam locomotive, diesel locomotive, RC cars, RC airplane.
Walking out to get some shopping done for school clothes Saturday afternoon it was all he could talk about: worried as to whether he might get this or that, what he should wish for.
"Evan, this is ridiculous. It's too stressful. You are way too worried about presents."
"I need a worry stone."
"A worry stone?! What about Santa?"
"And a wishing stone."
At least I know what I'm getting him for Christmas.
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