Silver bells, silver linings

After all that to-do about buying my Greek brother-in-law-to-be's Christmas gift, I went back home only to realize as I was putting the gifts under the tree that I'd left his in Toronto. Shit.

"Well, it could be worse," I said to my mom as she chopped celery for the stuffing. "At least I'll be able to drop it in the mail when I get back and it'll be there in time for January 6, when the Greeks actually celebrate Christmas."

"Do you remember when you were a kid and you got me that mug that said '#1 Mom' for Christmas and you lost it?" my mom asked, opening a cupboard. I did, vaguely. "You hid it somewhere in the house, and then you couldn't find it. You cried and you carried on, and you were so upset that you didn't have anything for me on Christmas morning.

"And do you remember when I found it? Mother's Day. I'll never forget that," she said, setting it down in front of me. "That's how you became the only one to ever buy me a Mother's Day gift. By accident."