The Birthday Present


It’s my birthday this weekend and I’ve been dropping not so subtle hints to my husband.

So, I say. What did you get me?

And he takes on that deer caught in headlights look.

He says, What do you want?

I say, You mean you haven’t gotten it yet?

Sure I’ve got it.

Good. What is it?

You’ll have to wait.

Is it functional? I ask, remembering the desk lamp I once got.

It was a very nice desk lamp, he reminds me.

Yes, it was.

A pause.

So is it shiny? I ask, remembering the very nice jewelry he’s gotten me in the past. Which he complains stay too much in my drawer but which I like to take out every once in a while and stroke and use to measure his love.

Maybe, he says.

Are we going anywhere nice? I ask.

Would you like to?

You haven’t arranged anything?

I thought we’d go out somewhere with the kids. Meaning he hasn’t arranged anything.

Are you going to give me my present in the morning or at dinner?

When would you like it?

I don’t know. Is it big?


It’s not a book, is it?

What’s wrong with a book?


No, it’s not a book.

Is it something I need?


Oh, god.

You’ll like it, I promise.

I frown.

What’s wrong? he says.

Well, that’s kind of ruined it. I wanted a complete surprise.

photo by The Shopping Sherpa (flickr)


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2 responses to “The Birthday Present

  1. Hannah

    I get functional fishing lures… and ice cleats… and ice augers…

  2. Irma

    Oh, God! And I’ve just sent you a book! Secondhand, too. I promise you’ll love it!

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