I cringe a little when I think about Christmas, 2004. That was the time my beautiful, well-behaved children — my daughter, Jordan, then age 4, and son, Blake, then 3 — suddenly turned into greedy little monsters.
My husband, Michael, and I had hoped that we'd have the best holiday ever. After all, both our kids were finally old enough to get what Christmas was all about. But things didn't turn out at all as we'd expected. What our children got instead was a bad case of the "gimmes."
The first signs cropped up at a Christmas party for our extended family. The presents were piled high, and Jordan and Blake went at them with alarming gusto. Gifts that had been carefully selected by generous grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins were quickly torn open, then tossed aside as the kids scoped out the next box labeled with their names. Abandoned clothing, toys, games, and books were scattered here and there. I hurried after my little ones, urging them to say "thank you," picking up the presents, and assuring our relatives that their thoughtful gifts would be welcome additions to the children's wardrobes and toy boxes.
I wasn't happy with this display, but I chalked it up to the excitement of the big party. I hoped that our smaller Christmas morning celebration would see more civilized behavior. But instead, it was more of the same. Jordan and Blake dove at the brightly wrapped boxes under the tree, barely glancing at each package's contents before ripping into the next one.
Seriously dismayed by my kids' antics, I vowed to take action, especially with Jordan's early-February birthday looming. Before the next celebration, the pair would learn the art of graciously receiving a gift.
