Five years on, the tradition seems as old as time. Now that last-minute rush falls not on December twenty-third but on November thirtieth. Will it be ready? Will it delight? So far there’ve been (a, b) two featuring presents strung up from a tree branch, (c) one strewn all over some wall bars in Anker’s room, and, just last year, (d) a garland-style presentation hanging from the ceiling. Packages tied up with strings, in other words, suspended from said strings in various arrangements. And inside—a truly unpredictable sequence of trinkets, substantial gifts, and immaterial surprises.
This year I set out to combine the hand-made approach with the punch-out functionality of a prototypical Advent calendar. Cardboard boxes and corrugated dividers for shipping wine were saved over a course of months, and some prime autumnal hours were carved out for construction. Very old crafting glue exceeded my expectations, and the rest all fell into place in a downright holiday miracle. The punching out was a raging success, and then, unexpectedly, so was the final act of destruction.
Not much shopping is involved, interestingly, or at least not much last-minute shopping. Opportunities arise all year long, and I take them when I see them. Oh, sure, I might splurge at Muji, the Kikkerland online store, or a museum shop sometime in the fall, but mostly I keep an open mind and a well-stocked drawer year-round. By the time November rolls around, I tend to be ready.
Here is one good idea. Sets of things can be strategically split into two or more rounds of gift-giving. (Imagine multiple items, maybe in a nifty container, particularly when they don’t have to be enjoyed together. Take out half, say, and wrap them separately. Give those first. A few days later follow up with the original box and the remaining items. Just as long as the early gift or gifts seem complete, it won’t matter if the last one gives away your stealthy roll-out tactics.)
More ideas, coming right up. A hard-to-get replacement part for that game that broke months ago. Books, naturally. Writing instruments, post-its in the shape of a cat, erasers that look like walnuts. Tickets to the movies. Don’t be afraid of including objects so large that the gift you see (or dig out from that cubbyhole) is merely a clue as to where the real gift can be found. (Think board games, hefty books, or things like swords and dartboards.)
Anything can be a present. A gift card for a treat from a favorite café. A favorite old T-shirt remade into a drawstring bag. A small amount of cash in an envelope. Say, one week’s allowance? Cash in an envelope, again. Finally, cash in an envelope in another country’s currency, because yes, a trip has been planned. A note that can be redeemed for two hours at a trampoline park. A trio of coupons for having your mom make your bed in the morning.
For more insights and inspiration, see this advent post from three years ago. Or read this one, six years old, about gift giving in general.
And don’t for a second think that December of this year is too early to start gaining next year’s Advent advantage.