My nephew, StuntMan, is the definition of a boy's boy. Never walking anywhere when he can run; always crashing and banging into anything, or anyone, in his path; kicking and "hiiii-YAH!"-ing his way through life, he is energetic to say the very least. He is also thoughtful, sympathetic, and downright tender, especially towards his mother, although you'll never get him to admit to being tender. His mother is pregnant with her fourth child, and Mother's Day is right around the corner, so he did what any self-respecting, mother-loving 6 year old would do: he got her a Mother's Day present.
My sister-in-law insisted that she didn't want anything for Mother's Day, but StuntMan wouldn't buy it (You learn well, young Jedi). He trotted off to school with the intention of buying his mother a gift at his school's "Mother's Day Shop" (known, in some circles, as the All the Junk Nobody Would Buy at a Flea Market Shop). He came home to show his mother the spoils of school shopping: little trinkets for his grandmother and friends (because we all know how important it is to remember our friends on Mother's Day. They have mothers, too, you know). And then the piece de resistance, the gift for his beloved mother. What did he pick for her? A tiny Baby Jesus figurine. My sister-in-law told me that it was clearly once attached to an actual Nativity set, and the little anchors were still visible on the Baby Jesus' backside. Somehow, He had become separated from the set and had made His way to the Mother's Day Shop at StuntMan's school. Seeing Him there, StuntMan picked Him up for his mother, since she was going to have a baby.
My sister-in-law did what any mom would do: she put the Baby Jesus in the cup holder of her car, and she kissed StuntMan. I don't know about you, but I think that's about the best gift any of us could get. A little Baby Jesus for the road of life. You done good, StuntMan.