Grandma gifts OR through the eyes of a child

"What would you like for Christmas, Dad (or birthday or father's day)?", I asked as a child.
"Smiling faces, nobody fighting", was his constant reply.
"Nooooo", I would wail. I can't wrap that up for you! What do you want that I can wrap up?"
Dad would only smile and repeat his mantra.
Frustrated, I would tell him about Susie who was buying her father a tie or a pen and pencil set - typical gifts for fathers back then.
"I just want to see everyone happy" he'd say.

Mom would gently take me aside and suggest I make Dad something - a card or a picture. Even that sounded dumb to my childish ears. I could draw him a picture any old day. That was not a special enough gift for my Dad.

Time changes, years pass and I find myself in my Dad's shoes.
My most precious gifts are the ones my grandchildren make for me.
A wobbly outline of their hand, drawn in a bright red crayon, fingers fat as sausages.
Pictures of a skinny house with no windows and a chimney pouring out smoke on a bright summer's day (as evidenced by the stick-like flowers and huge yellow sun).
A sparkly, sticky glob of glue - that was supposed to be a Christmas ornament.
A gingerbreadman cookie with a bite out of it.
A hard lump of playdoh - "grandma, I made you a camel!" (what in the world would I want a camel for?)

But the best of the best are the pictures of people - from the child's perspective. Gigantic mothers and tiny children. Baby brother who is as big as Dad. Grandma or Grandpa who take up the whole page - or only a small corner of it. People missing ears or necks; someone wearing glasses who normally doesn't. People with long legs and short arms - or short legs and long arms.

It is such a joy to watch their little eyes light up as they proudly hand you their gift - or eagerly unwrap it for you.
"I made this all by myself!"
"Really?" (I could never have guessed).

The whirlwind years of bringing up my own children have come and gone with lightening speed. Now that I'm a Grandma, I have time to reflect, to cherish the really important things in life.

Now I understand what my Dad was talking about all those years ago.