I could tell the story about the standup doll I received or the jeans my brother got wrapped in a box labeled Lionel trains. (He got the trains wrapped in the Levi box). But the one I’ll go with is the day I wore the Stupid Crown.
My daughter was expecting a dollhouse in that last gift under the tree. But I didn’t know that. I thought she wanted a drum. Let’s just say, when she opened it, she was underwhelmed. Polite but grief-stricken that her dolls had no home. The Stupid Crown was all mine that day. Twenty years later, we still talk about it.
I'm thankful not have worn the stupid crown.