After I hyperventilated and gushed a million thank you's, I got to hear my friend down the hall shriek repeatedly with joy as hers was delivered. You would think we were teenagers opening an ipad on Christmas morning.
Then my thoughtful students brought me several nice presents throughout the day. I kept wondering why the homemade goodies touched me so much more. Is it because I linked them with the labor of love that the special bread from the morning seemed to be?
And I arrived home to the highly anticipated annual box from Aunt Pat. We all try to be the one to get the mail on the day the buck-eye balls arrive each year so we can gobble them up before anyone else sees how many we really got. I was the lucky one this year, and I had a moment of weakness where I showed the box to James, who promptly wrestled them from me before I could come to my senses. We then called her so we could all give her the mouth-full-thank-yous.
So does this mean I'm officially old now? Or does it mean I've finally realized how personal the homemade stuff really is? How it seems to have more of the giver in it? Or am I just PMSing?