Last year I got my husband a book to read to our daughter. I think I’ve read it to her more than he has. So I probably ought to skip the book route for him.
But books are so fun to look for, buy, and read. I suppose no one can blame me for that- I’m a writer. It should be expected. I come from a family of readers – books are always great gifts.
I suppose one day I will accept that my husband is not – and never will be – a reader. Luckily, the same does not seem to be true for my daughter, who loves to page through her books, my books, any kind of paper she can get her hands on.
It’s cute, though also frustrating. I never know where I’ll find anything! Pens must be out of reach, too, because she wanders off with them. And everything else she can toddle off with.
And I get to spend the rest of the day with her and my husband. I hope he likes the non-book gift.
Okay, I got him one book this year, but it’s not the main gift, and I think he might like it… Maybe? Hopefully?