Gift Etiquette

My friend Charlotte’s dog had puppies. They were the cutest little Beagle babies ever born. I wanted one. Gram said, “No!” It was her firm, under no uncertain terms, no. The one there is really no point in arguing with — so I didn’t. Instead, I went into my room to pout.

Once in my room I was sorely reminded that I had a great deal more than no puppy to pout about. The ugliest dress ever fashioned hung from my closet door. It was red with huge white polka dots, and had ruffles and flounces and buttons and ribbons adorning it. A relative had sent it to me as my high school graduation present.

Of course, upon being presented the dress I smiled and said thank you as a properly raised child was properly raised to do — then the moment the relative was gone I begged to exchange the dress for something more age appropriate. No go. Gram not only said I couldn’t exchange the dress, she said I had to wear it out to dinner with said relative.

“In public?” I shrieked. I may have even thrown a wee temper-tantrum. What I got in exchange was Gram’s Gift Etiquette speech. “She went to a lot of trouble to pick out that dress for you.”

Yeah. It probably took her six months to find something that ugly.

“When you are given a gift,” Gram couldn’t hear my thoughts, but I imagine they were written all over my face. “You say thank you -”

“I did say thank you!”

“And you demonstrate your thankfulness by keeping the gift –”

Fine. I’ll keep it in the back of my closet.

“And using it — in this case wearing it — in their company.”

I jerked the dress out of the box to make certain Gram got a really good look at it. “I’ll die if I have to wear this dress!”

“You won’t die!” Gram admonished, but she was eying the dress. “You only have to wear it once,” she said.

Once. In public. Where the whole world would see.

Still, I might have believed she sympathized with my plight had she not added, “Who knows? It might grow on you.”

Like a fungus.

So I sat on my bed, staring at the ugliest dress in the history of forever and fuming over being denied the cutest puppy in the universe. And suddenly the dress did began to grow on me. I actually grabbed it, kissed it and danced around the room with it. That dress was about to guarantee me a puppy.

Sunday night I wore the dress out to dinner, as had been commanded. I didn’t scream or yell or gag or make any snide remarks at all. I acted like a proper young lady, all sugar and only the sweetest spices.

The next afternoon I came home from school alone. That was highly unusual. My friends and I generally traveled in a large crowd. When I came in, Gram noted the absence of my friends and asked, “What’s wrong?”

I told her that I had something very serious to talk to her about. Then I blurted out, “Charlotte has given me a present and I don’t want to keep it.”

“Why?” Gram asked sharply. “Is it too expensive or something her parents wouldn’t approve of?”

I frowned, like I was thinking about it, then shook my head. “Her parents wouldn’t mind. And, I don’t think it cost her anything at all.”

I didn’t plan that answer, but it was perfect. Gram thought I didn’t want the gift because it wasn’t good enough. She launched into her Gift Etiquette speech with extra verve and gusto. “The value of a gift isn’t in what it costs …” I waited patiently with my hands folded until she ran down, although, for appearances sake, I did try to insert a couple of, “B-b-buts,” into her tirade.

Finally she finished. I sighed heavily, said, “Well, okay, if that’s your last word.” She assured me that it was, so I went out to the porch and picked up a little wicker basket adorned with a lavender ribbon and a Congratulations on Your Graduation gift card. Inside the basket was the cutest little Beagle baby ever born.

Gram saw the basket — and it’s contents — shook her head and said, “I’ve been had.” But she was smiling.