At my company's white elephant gift exchange, I brought a Lego Seattle Space Needle. This is a gift that Max has been wanting for years. When he saw me wrapping it, he asked with a Cindy Loo Hoo look, "Who are you wrapping that for, who?"
I explained the idea of a white elephant exchange. He kept asking questions, so I broke down the rules for him:
- The gift should cost about $20, no more
- The gift should be recently purchased, not pulled out from under a bed
- Each person gets to choose between taking an opened gift or opening a new one
- A gift could only be taken 3 times
- The first person to draw gets to make the last swap
Max encouraged me to employ the strategy of bringing home the Lego Space Needle. "We can all build it together, and then we can put it maybe in my room."
There were 30 participants in my Digital Publishing group, and I got the number 5 draw.
The first few people picked awful gifts -- a lidless butter tray, a Santa Claus tea set, a lava lamp -- so I decided to make Max happy. I opened the Lego Space Needle. There, I thought. Max will be happy. No one else will want this.
The number six picker grabbed the Lego Space Needle, and it was locked down with the third pick by the person who went ninth.
Really? A Lego Space Needle?
Unfortunately, that's the end of the exciting part of the story. I opened a package of Kentucky bourbon, kept it until the number 29 picker nabbed it, and ended up with a Family Feud game for the Wii.
When I picked up the boys from art class, the first thing Max said was, "Did you get the Space Needle? Did you?"
"No, but I got a game for the Wii!" I said, perhaps a little too excitedly.
"But we don't have a Wii," he said, hangdog style.
I was hoping he wouldn't bring up that particular point.