Dear Daughter,

This letter is my preemptive strike. If any of the past ten years is to be an indication, you are making ready to soon contact me in regards to a certain holiday that is fast approaching. Something happened to you, dear child, following the birth of your first child. It was approximately eleven months after that memorable, and in my mind sacred event, you began to experience a seemingly uncontrollable desire to dictate certain actions of my life, to predetermine what I, your father, the one who sired you, could and could not do at specific times of the year. I have quit trying to ascribe some logical reasoning by which you could have arrived at your predilection; but such escapes me.

Previously you have admonished me over and over not to go overboard on Christmas. Since the birth of my first grandchild your unsolicited advice has come in various forms. One reproach has been to tell me your children do not need to be spoiled. You have patiently reasoned with me that indulging them with a profusion of gifts might condition them to an unrealistic expectation of the season. I want you to know I appreciate your arguments and I have considered them profusely. However, you are wrong! My grandchildren are intelligent enough to know the difference in your expectations and mine; my granddaughters are perfectly able to distinguish a parent from a grandparent and in that distinction know the indulgence is not for them but rather to satisfy a grandparent’s need. This, my child, is something you will not comprehend until you become a grandparent.

Your other approach has been to caution me of the danger of inadvertently bestowing the largess of my affection unevenly among my grandchildren. Here again, oh child of mine, you have yet to be favored with grandparental wisdom. Those, such as I, who have reached this exalted status have also obtained a level of mental acuity that is capable of factoring age, gender, preferences, needs, desires and other characteristics of each individual grandchild through a complicated formula, honing the intricacies of the of ancient reasoning for a minimum of eleven months to settle upon the bequest.

Having made these points, my daughter, I must confess I find myself this year being gripped by the incontestable logic of one of your arguments. I remember the affection in your voice in past years when you estimated the monetary value of the gifts to my granddaughters and lovingly expressed that this financial outpouring may be a burden on one living on a fixed income. How sweet of you to mention this. I love you for it. In years past I could ignore this loving concern. But this year I see the wisdom you express. Please let me explain.

The economic conditions in our nation and world have caught me unprepared for Christmas in ways I’ve never encountered before. Rising prices have had an impact. A downturn in what can be expected from investments is crucial. And, to be truthful, the co-pay on medical expenses is more than I’ve budgeted. It all conspires to put a strain on my Christmas present list. It is time I rein myself in and stop being so indulgent. As much as I hate to do this, I’m going to have to curtail my Christmas benevolences.

It has come down to a choice between you and my granddaughters. Please know that I still love you.