Blading

My daughter's friends whiz down the street laughing like maniacs on their rollerblades.  She turns pleading eyes to me.  "Mom, can I please have new rollerblades?  My old ones don't fit me anymore."

"Put it on your Christmas wish list," I reply, because at this time of year that's what I always say.

She does.  The last item on a short list.  It stares me in the face every time I get something from the fridge.

Thinking I am so prompt and on top of things, I look online for a cheap pair of rollerblades for my daughter's Christmas gift.  Because I am me, I find some second hand that look great.

I send my husband to look at them, and he buys them.  When he gets them home, he tells me he doesn't like giving the kids second hand things for Christmas.  It makes him feel cheap.  I say, "Isn't that a good thing?  Feeling cheap means you're doing something right."

He disagrees.  Then I disagree.  In the end, we decide to give the rollerblades to our daughter now, the deciding factor being she won't be able to ride them at Christmastime.

That very night, I have the pleasure of watching my daughter whiz down the street, laughing like a wobbly maniac with her friends.  It is one of those moments a mother files away in her memory box to pull out later and remind herself that life is good.