The second gift, from Seth, was another fishing rod. “Uh… thanks, son,” Dad muttered, his smile slipping.
The third gift was from me. He unwrapped it slowly, and his face dropped when he saw yet another fishing rod.
By the time Dad opened the fifth identical fishing rod, his patience wore thin. “What’s going on here? Why am I getting fishing rods? I don’t even fish!”
Meanwhile, Mom was unwrapping her gifts: a beautiful designer purse, a spa day gift card, and a personalized necklace. Her face lit up with each present, brighter than the Christmas lights around her.
“Thank you so much,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “This is the best Christmas I’ve had in years.”
That’s when Dad finally caught on. “Wait… Where are all the kitchen gadgets I asked for?”
Seth crossed his arms, unbothered. “We thought Mom deserved better.”
Dad sputtered, “But she needs those things!”
Mom’s laughter stopped cold. “Excuse me? You told everyone to get me kitchen gadgets?”
Seth didn’t hold back. “Yeah, because you think she’s ‘lazy’ and a bad cook. Funny, though—she does everything around here while you just sit on the couch.”
The room fell silent. Dad’s face turned red, and Mom’s narrowed. “So, that’s how you see me?” she asked, her voice trembling with anger.
Dad tried to backpedal. “It was just a joke!”
Mom picked up one of the fishing rods and shoved it into Dad’s lap. “Here. Now you can joke while learning how to fish.”
For the rest of the day, Mom basked in the love and appreciation from everyone, while Dad sulked in the corner surrounded by fishing rods. That evening, she pulled Seth and me into a hug.
“You two have no idea how much this means to me,” she said softly.
“We just wanted you to know how much we appreciate you, Mom,” I said.
“And we wanted Dad to realize it too,” Seth added with a grin.
Mom laughed through her tears. “You two are brilliant. I couldn’t ask for better kids.”
As for the fishing rods, they served their purpose: a reminder to Dad of what happens when you take the glue of the family for granted.