Permanent Marker 6x6 Smooth Bristol
©2012 BEDeuel/Bronson Hill Arts
The first time, that I can clearly recall, was when I was a kid. My great-aunt was part of the family and had taken to hand-feeding a sickly cat who had taken residence outside our house. The cat, named Tigger, regained her health (and went on to live a very long life) thanks to Aunt Marie's efforts. You might guess how Tigger repaid her based on the illustration for IF posted here. Yep: dead critters left at the front door. There were a lot of screams on a lot of early mornings. Aunt Marie thought she could avoid the gifts by going out through the garage door, but Tigger caught on quickly and started to deposit her presents of gratitude at that door. The morning screams continued for quite a while.
Another time, in more recent years, was that first well-intentioned, but, decidedly, unromantic gift from the hubby, at-that-time boyfriend. I learned then (but still forget frequently) he actually does listen to me when I mention something I might like to get. Like a convertible vacuum cleaner. For my birthday. Yes, very awkward, indeed.
Most of the time, we manage to gather our wits enough to react, perhaps belatedly,but with as much grace as we can. However, the gift-giver knows, no matter how rapidly we may recover.
I don't know about you, but I find that when that happens, I feel so awful for not being grateful, that I start to see the gift in a different light. It becomes all the more precious for the thought and love put into it, from the giver to the recipient, even if it doesn't meet the expectation initially.
When a daughter needed a vacuum cleaner for her school residence, she asked if she could take that convertible one with her. Oddly enough, it was hard to part with it. I think you may know why now.