Angels We have Heard on High Barbie

My father wasn't noted for his gift-giving acumen and my mother attached great importance to presents.  She loved to give gifts as much as she loved to receive them.   I still treasure many of the gifts she gave to me, and yet I cannot remember a single gift she gave to my dad.  I do remember some of the sparks that flew after she opened gifts he'd chosen for her.

One Christmas, he bought a pretty blue blouse.  I was with him when he got it and he was very pleased to have found it.  Mom wasn't pleased when she opened it.  "I have EXACTLY the same blouse hanging in my closet already," she fumed.  "Well", he said, "I knew it would look good on you."

There was the year he showed up with a dead plant.  "It was on sale."

One year he had her diamond engagement ring reset and bought a new wedding band to match.  That was an okay year.  I think she'd have been much happier with a brand new ring but he couldn't bring himself to buy her another ring.  It was a perfectly good diamond and she only had one ring finger.

Another year he bought her a bathroom hamper.  It was a very nice bathroom hamper.  It was a particularly bad gift.  

But then one year Mom unwrapped a beautiful mink coat.  It was soft and rich and lush and perfect.  And she felt like a precious angel every time she wore it.  Dad had finally managed to give her a gift that made her eyes pop out, just like my eyes did the year she gave me my first Barbie.