The Horrors of Gift Shopping

I am meeting my daughter Patricia today.  He birthday isn’t until Tuesday, but I will be leaving for Europe tomorrow.  She will turn six, and I have no idea what to get her.  I do know what not to get her:

• Shot glasses – I had already bought them and told Patricia’s mother that was I was going to give her.  She flipped out and ripped me a new one.  She is still mad for taking Patricia drinking for her birthday last year.
• Shot Gun – I wanted to buy her one and take her hunting.  My visitations are supervised and I don’t want to take her mother along.
• Barbie and Bratz dolls – Patricia likes them, but her mother is concerned about image issues.  Her mother had Barbie dolls growing up, and that didn’t stop me from a night of passionate post-9/11 sex.
• Clothing – Let’s face it:  Parents have no taste in clothing.  I remember the annual pilgrimage to K-Mart every December 26 with the tacky clothes my parents would buy me for Christmas.
• Campaign paraphernalia –  I have to save the paraphernalia for people who are voting age.  The only adults Patricia sees during the week are at school and her mother.  I need to use it wisely to generate votes.  Six-year-olds can’t vole.

I have decided I will give her a gift card.  I will give her a Hooter’s gift card when I take her there for her birthday dinner tonight.

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