I’ve only ever re-gifted once and that incident resulted in enough mortification to last a lifetime.
We put on a party for Thaddeus when he turned four and he happened to receive two thoughtfully presented but identical “Bananas in Pyjamas” books.
Thrifty Pinky put one book aside in a drawer for any future pre-schooler’s birthday parties Thaddeus may attend.
Sure enough, about two weeks later he was invited to another rugrat shindig... so I carefully re-wrapped the Bananas book and tucked it under Thaddeus’ tiny arm for him to present to the lucky recipient.
The next week at pre-school, the mother of the afore-mentioned child approached me at the gate wielding said book.
Sure enough, about two weeks later he was invited to another rugrat shindig... so I carefully re-wrapped the Bananas book and tucked it under Thaddeus’ tiny arm for him to present to the lucky recipient.
The next week at pre-school, the mother of the afore-mentioned child approached me at the gate wielding said book.
“We thought we’d better give little Thaddeus his book back,” she smiled without using her eyes. Before I could recover from my spluttering seizure, she’d swivelled around abruptly and trounced off.
“How the heck did she know?” I thought in mystified embarrassment.
It wasn’t until later when I opened it up to read it to one of the kids at bedtime that I noticed the handwritten inscription inside the front cover,
“To darling Thaddeus,
“How the heck did she know?” I thought in mystified embarrassment.
It wasn’t until later when I opened it up to read it to one of the kids at bedtime that I noticed the handwritten inscription inside the front cover,
“To darling Thaddeus,
all our love from Auntie Julie, Uncle Mike and cousins.”
Shite!
Shite!
