A Gift from Dad (with some help from Mom)

Every Christmas, my family of 6 (two boys, two girls, and two parents) draws a name out of a hat. The name you draw is the name of the person you're supposed to buy a present for. You obviously have to draw again if you get your own name, which causes major confusion almost every year because someone always gets their own name, causing everyone to have to redraw. But eventually it gets sorted out, and everyone has a name. There's always some price limit to the gift, mostly because up until a few years ago my younger siblings didn't have jobs and were low on cash. 

It's supposed to be a secret whose name you have, but since my little sister has to have my mom drive her to the store to get her gift; and since at least one, sometimes both, of my brothers usually has to ask my mom for an idea for his person, the secret gets out pretty easily. 

Last year my dad had my name. I don't consider myself a hard person to buy things for. I'll pretty much like anything I get because, in my opinion, it's the thought that counts. As long as it's clear there was thought involved. I mean, don't buy me something lame. Or stupid. Or something I wouldn't like. But I'll appreciate anything not stupid or lame, which still leaves a lot of options for things I'd like.

I really didn't know what to expect from my dad, but the box I was handed on Christmas Eve was rectangular and fairly light. I tore open the paper to reveal what has since continued to make me extremely happy (as in, making me happy right now. Seriously, my feet are so warm!):

As it turns out, I had been wanting a pair of slipper/moccasin things, so I was delighted (and a bit frightened) to discover that my dad had read my mind and gotten me the perfect gift. My mom usually is the one with the perfect gift ideas, and I had no idea my dad could deliver the goods as well.

I was busy exclaiming how much I loved my gift when I saw my mom turn to my dad and say, "See?"

"You were so right," he replied. 

I asked what they were talking about and quickly uncovered the mystery of the perfect gift. 

I imagine it went something like the following:

My dad was all like, "What should I get Amanda for Christmas?" And then my mom was like, "I know! She'll love some warm, comfortable slippers." And he was like, "Umm...that's a weird idea. I don't think she'll like that." And she was like, "No, she will. It's perfect. Just like every gift idea I've ever had. You should listen to me." And he was like, "I know you usually have great ideas, but this one seems off. Have you ever heard her say she wanted slippers?" And she was like, "No, but I just know she will. It's perfect." And he was like, "Ummm..." And she was like, "Trust me. I know what I'm talking about." And he was like, "Okay, but if she doesn't like them, you're claiming it." And she was like, "Fine. That's doesn't scare me. I am the queen of gift ideas." (Okay, maybe she didn't say that last part.)

I got them, loved them, wear them often. The only reason I don't actually wear them everywhere is because I can't take the chance of them getting dirty or wet if I were to go outside. I love them too much. They're perfect.

Thank you, Dad. (With much appreciated help from Mom.)

Thus ends Volume 1 of" "Things that Make Me Happy."