As I mentioned before, I'm not so good with the traditional love languages. Namely, gifts. I think deep down I've always known I was a bad gift giver. I blame it on my mom. And not just because in this society you seem to be able to blame everything on your mom and get away with it. When I was a child picking out birthday gifts for my friends and couldn't decide on what to give, she'd say, "Just get them what you would want." BIG mistake. I wanted glue, because for some reason I was always running out. Tape (ditto). The good pens that don't smear ink if you're left-handed (like I am). These are not gifts most seven-year-olds want.
The problem ensued until I got married. Daniel was perplexed by my lack of gift-giving finesse. Later, I would learn that "gifts" was his love language. "Family," I told my family one night, "it has come to my attention that I give lame gifts."
"True dat," said my brother, who has always fancied himself from da hood. "You once gave me a can of soda for my birthday."
"Stickers," said my sister.
I vowed to mend my ways, but gift-giving is tough. I think I lack a certain gene.
So when my friend Bree said she had a present for me, I panicked. Had some event meriting gifts transpired without my knowledge? It was close to Mother's Day. Was I a mother and didn't realize it? But no, Bree said, this present was for no other reason than because she was my friend. Which led me to believe it was the same thing I got my friends: non-smeary pens. Or glue.
But Bree's gift was this:
For those of you who don't know, I'm a huge Baby-Sitters Club fan, and Bree had gotten me an advanced copy (ARC) of the highly anticipated prequel to the series. Not only is an advanced copy awesome in and of itself, but it's also soft cover, making it blend in seamlessly with the rest of my collection:
See how perfect? I was so excited I almost missed the next part: when I opened the book, what should I see but the signature of one Ann M. Martin herself, mother of the Baby-Sitters Club phenomenon!!!
Wow. It still makes me breathless.