I vividly remember my grandparents’ home during Christmas, the way it came alive with lights and decorations. Outside, the house twinkled with strings of colorful bulbs, and the yard was dotted with festive ornaments. Inside, a towering Christmas tree stood proudly in front of the bay window, adorned with countless lights, shimmering ornaments, and a skirt that hid a bounty of presents beneath it. The whole house smelled faintly of pine and peppermint, a scent that still carries me back to that magical time.
I was five years old that year, and my eyes immediately found a box tucked near the window—a box nearly three feet tall, with my name written in big, bold letters. My brother and cousins couldn’t resist teasing me, claiming the large box was just a trick, that it only contained something tiny, nothing like what I had hoped for. But deep down, I just knew. I knew that the gift inside that box was the one I had been wishing for, and the anticipation of opening it was almost unbearable.
Finally, Christmas Eve arrived, and excitement filled the air. We could hardly sit still as we waited for gifts to be passed out. When the moment came, I grabbed the big box first, my little hands shaking. I tore through the wrapping paper with all the patience I had left, and there she was—a My Size Barbie, dressed in a stunning white wedding gown. And the best part? I could wear the dress too. It was everything I had dreamed of, and in that moment, my joy was boundless.
That gift has stayed with me more than anything else I received that Christmas. What I remember even more vividly, though, is not the other presents or how many there were—it’s the feeling of being surrounded by my entire family in my grandparents’ living room. Laughter bounced off the walls, stories were shared, and love filled every corner. The presents faded into the background, but the warmth of that togetherness has stayed with me my entire life.
As the holidays approach, I often hear the familiar question: “What are you getting the kids for Christmas?” I’ve heard everything this year, from the wildly extravagant toys children are asking for to the jaw-dropping price tags on these gifts. But let me reassure you, parents—the price tag does not define your child’s happiness. It won’t determine the memories they’ll carry, the laughter they’ll remember, or the love they’ll feel. No matter how expensive the gift, it can never replace your presence, your attention, and the moments you spend together.
My own children remind me of this every year. Recently, my mom played along with a little Elf on the Shelf mischief, as we “pranked” her by painting red lipstick on her nose while pretending Topper had done it. The kids laughed until they cried, and these are the memories that will stick—not the toys, not the wrapping paper, but the shared moments of joy, silliness, and connection.
This is the lesson I learned from my own childhood: the priceless value of family, the joy of being together, and the importance of laughter and fun. My mom, my brother, and I made some of our happiest memories no matter what challenges we faced. We couldn’t always afford fancy ornaments for the tree? No problem—my mom sat with us and helped us craft homemade ones. She worked tirelessly to provide for us, and though the gifts were sometimes modest, the love and togetherness were abundant.
Today, my stepdaughter and son will have presents under the tree, just as any child should. But alongside those gifts, we celebrate the true spirit of Christmas. We cherish gathering as a family, sharing traditions, and building memories that will outlast any toy or gadget.
So to every parent feeling the pressure this season: don’t stress over getting the “hottest” toy or spending every extra hour at work to fill the wishlist. Every child has their own My Size Barbie—or their version of it—but the other gifts will fade from memory. The real treasures are the laughter, the shared experiences, and the love that fills the room. Whether there are five presents or twenty-five under the tree, the moments you create together are what truly last. Those are the memories that endure.
