The Great Gift Swap Debacle

Ah, Christmas. The air smelled like pine, cookies, and the faint bitterness of family competition. I was 12 years old and already an expert in the fine art of Christmas gift exchanges—or so I thought. Our extended family gathered in my grandparents’ living room for the annual Secret Santa. I’d drawn Cousin Stephanie, whose hobbies included cats, glitter, and being the center of attention.

I proudly presented my carefully wrapped gift: a sparkly journal with an attached pen that clicked when you twisted the glitter globe on top. It was perfect for her. But when Stephanie opened it, she squinted, pursed her lips, and muttered, “Thanks, I guess,” before tossing it aside.

Cue my teenage cousin with wavy, dark brown hair, blue-green eyes, and a knack for being both cool and infuriating. “Looks like someone needs a lesson in gratitude,” he quipped, flashing his perfect white teeth. (Yeah, we’re a hot family. What can I say?)

Stephanie glared at him, but before she could retort, I noticed her digging into her own stash of presents. Out came the gift she’d bought for her Secret Santa—a generic holiday candle that screamed “bare minimum.” She thrust it toward me, grinning. “Trade?”

Here’s where my entitlement kicked in. Why should I trade? My gift had thought behind it. Meanwhile, her candle smelled like disappointment and melted crayons. But the unspoken family rule of politeness loomed large. Reluctantly, I handed over the glittery masterpiece.

What followed was chaos. Stephanie’s boldness inspired a cascade of impromptu trades, turning the room into a barter economy where alliances were formed and broken in seconds. My dad ended up with a mug that said “World’s Okayest Uncle.” Aunt Carol got a self-help book she clearly didn’t ask for. And me? The candle.

My cousin, watching this unfold like the referee of a chaotic soccer match, finally stepped in. He grabbed the glitter journal from Stephanie and handed it back to me. “Fair’s fair. You can’t trade down,” he declared, somehow making it sound like a rule written in Christmas law.

Stephanie sulked. I triumphed. But the lesson came later: sometimes entitlement isn’t about taking—it’s about standing up for what’s fair. Also, never trust Stephanie to buy gifts.

As for the candle? It mysteriously found its way to Stephanie’s cat bed. Merry Christmas.