The Tomato.
I remember going Christmas shopping with Dad at The Montgomery Ward (yes, it was THE Montgomery Ward) in Xenia for a gift for Mom. He was looking at nightgowns, and we decided on a pretty yellow shortie nightgown as his gift. He was very pleased with himself.
Until Christmas morning.
Mom opened the gift and opened the packaging. On the front of the pale yellow, knee-length nightie was a big, red tomato, with the language “I’m your little tomato” (or something similar, I was little) on the front.
She was horrified.
Needless to say, the nightie went back, and Dad was in the dog house.
Oh, but how I remember this!
The tomato covered the entire front of the nightie.
You failed to mention that Dad bought mom pajamas for Christmas nearly every single year.
You failed to mention that he started and finished his Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve.
You failed to mention that he usually had no idea how the mounds and mounds of packages neatly wrapped arrived under the tree on Christmas morning.
Oh but he had so much joy watching all of ours!
In my own defense, I was what, 5? But agree. He did always buy her pajamas or a robe or something. He did always wait to the last minute. Seems like he may have put together a bicycle or two over the years, and most importantly he rescued Pooh from Kresge’s — But that’s Jan’s story to tell…
Makes me giggle just thinking of that nightie you described so well.
He always tried to act like he was not clueless about the contents of our Christmas packages. I am sure she clung to our reaction to each one.