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Christmas with grown-up kids is a lot harder to pull off than when they were younger. I know this to be true.
But the nice thing about them -- and they are at the ages of 28, 25, 20 and 20 -- my brood has the ability to do something that they could not do when they were little ... they can buy me stuff for Christmas, which is fine because I want stuff.
My wife came up with an incredible idea; she put a big piece of paper on the fridge with everyone's name on it and you were supposed to put down ideas for Christmas presents on it -- kind of a treasure map for area or online sites. The kids put down their ideas, my wife did not, and I only wrote down two things: happiness and cats that behave and follow the rules. Though I know through song that money cannot buy happiness, I really thought threatening to get rid of two of our three cats was a gift that could be had. I was told to erase them both.
But as usual with this column ... I digress.
Over the past few years, I've received some wonderful presents from the four of them but really, I am the easiest guy in the world to shop for ... I love Pepsi Zero, Jif crunchy peanut butter and music. The music part is tricky, though. They got me an MP3 player a few Christmases ago, and I am hooked. Do other people know about this technology?
It's an "endless Walkman" if you ask me. Cassettes can only hold so many songs, but an MP3 player ... I keep waiting for Maggie, my daughter and music producer who puts songs on it for me, to tell me it's full, but she has yet to speak those words. But the thing is, she has a full-time job and cannot, at the spur of a moment, put songs on it for me at the drop of a hat.
My wife says I should learn to do it myself, but then it's not a gift, is it Ann Marie?
God bless Vincent, though, because he wants to buy me stuff even though he's in college and supposedly saving his money. He is the perfect person to buy me Pepsi Zero and Jif, which I believe are in Aisles 2 and 9, if I remember a certain grocery store by our home near East Freedom correctly.
Someone told me he should just use our money to buy me a present, but then we are talking dollar store diet soda and peanut butter. The thought of that just sends shivers down my colon.
Dominic recently took me to see comedian Bill Burr in concert at Penn State. It was his treat because he knows we both like him, plus discretionary income is still a big part of my life.
But I just had to know what he paid. It's kind of like when I would bring my mom food when I would visit her at her home in Duncansville. She'd ask me how much, and let's just say this, Bill Burr costs way more than a junior cheeseburger, a baked potato and a Sprite, her go-to lunch sometimes, at Wendy's.
My daughter Julianna is a traveling X-ray technician who has worked at hospitals in Colorado, Arizona, Utah and Montana. So far I've received an Arizona Diamondbacks jersey, a Colorado Rockies jersey, and I am still holding out for any item of clothing from the Utah Jazz collection, or a Montana Grizzlies collegiate hoodie. I am not picky. As long as its 4X or 5X, I'm a happy camper.
It's hard to purchase gifts for grownup kids because they have so many different things that they like now, as opposed to buying girl toys and boy toys for them as youngsters. Some of them are grownup gifts, some are still things from their past that they continue to enjoy. The boys still want football jerseys. Maggie still wants Steelers stuff. Julianna used to get snacks for her horse, Vegas, from me, which is easy to pull off because if a horse doesn't like a present, it cannot roll its eyes like a kid can. Of course, unless it's a one-trick pony (bad dad joke drum roll please).
My wife and I are supposed to NOT buy each other presents because we like spending more on the kids, as well as the all-Italian menu she cooks up for Christmas day. But in a way, she has given me things in the past that still resonate today ... four kids of whom I could not be more proud of because of how they handle themselves at their jobs, their school and in the community.
Now, if I could get Julianna to move back home, Vincent and Maggie's rooms not to look like the beaches of Normandy from the 1940s, and for Dominic to not want to yell violently at the TV when his teams lose, then we'll be talking perfection. Plus, Ann Marie still likes being married to me after 29 years, and that could be considered a Christmas miracle itself.
Mirror Sports Writer Scott Franco writes a monthly column for the Mirror.