The Gray Area of Gift Giving

I love gift giving. It brings me an immense amount of joy to find something I think would bring another person happiness, and even more to watch them open it and get to share in their joy. And so usually, Christmas is my jackpot - so much gift giving and sharing in the joyous moments. 

And yet, being a mom of an autistic child has forced me to pivot in my expectation as a gift-giver, especially this year. 

As I begin planning for each holiday season, I create a spreadsheet of items both Dawson and Kamden would like and then I decide which items I want to gift as their parents, which items I want Santa to give them, and then which items I will suggest to other family members. It is an extensive process which takes a lot of time, consideration, and updating - and I love it!

Present by present I revel in their joyous shouts, cute sayings and scrunched up faces of pure bliss. 

However, this year I was faced with something I didn’t anticipate: the gray area of gift giving. As well as I know each of my boys, the reality is that gift giving is a very subjective task. I am predicting the reaction each item will bring from each boy, but predictions always hold the risk of being wrong, and this Christmas they were.

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Christmas Eve I eagerly laid out the golf club sets for each boy and prepared myself for the glee they would receive as they each found their very own set. I added some socks I know they love, a new toothbrush, and a few other items to complete the full stocking experience in the morning. I retired to bed feeling exhausted but successful. 

Then Christmas morning came with an emotional plunge my tired mama heart wasn’t ready for - Dawson was devastated. As he snuck down to ensure Santa had come, he noticed that the Pokemon card set he had really wanted was not there. He began to spiral - and so did I. At the same time he was questioning how Santa couldn’t have predicted his one true wish, I questioned how he couldn’t see the potential of the golf clubs. It put a damper on the morning, and I was left feeling defeated. The reality was that Santa couldn’t get that card set for him, it was already reserved for his grandma on the spreadsheet. I knew it was coming, but not for a few more days. Throughout the rest of the day, Dawson found other items that made him excited, but it was clear he was disappointed. 

As I processed his reaction, I had to continue to remind myself what I already knew - those on the spectrum have a hard time expanding their perspective beyond their egocentric views - meaning that they see the world through their eyes, and struggle to see beyond that. Dawson wasn’t intending to have a selfish or spoiled view of the gifts he received, he was struggling to understand how those who were giving him gifts couldn’t see the expectations he had created in his mind. 

A few days later, we celebrated Christmas with my in-laws. Dawson anxiously awaited the moment he could open his gifts - knowing this was his last chance at the Pokemon card set. As he took turns with his cousins - each opening a gift at a time - he strategically selected which gift he would open on his next turn. Finally, box 3 brought the reaction any gift giver would delight in. He opened the box and screamed unintelligible words as he realized he had received the cards he had always wished for and wanted. He jumped up and over the maze of gifts on the floor to make his way to his grandma with pure excitement and gratitude. He spent the rest of the day looking over the new card set he had imagined in his dreams. With each new discovery he would shriek with joy as he investigated the set. 

As my husband and I drove home that night, Dawson held his box tight and stayed awake. Every once in a while he would tell us something exciting about his box and we would ignorantly celebrate how cool it was, without truly understanding what he was talking about. 

The following morning, Dawson sat on the couch next to me with his box in hand. He opened it and started showing me his favorite things about the box. I remained engaged in the moment and asked him questions, studied the pieces and picked the card I thought was the coolest. With each interaction, I could see Dawson become more and more excited about this exchange with me and I realized that this moment was also a gift - the gift of time and showing interest. 

In that moment I realized what Dawson had wanted for Christmas all along - something that he was passionate about and to share that passion with those he loved. Being able to give him even a part of that made my gift-giver and mama heart fill with joy.