“It’s the perfect gift,” my mom explains as we trek through the store, looking for the elusive gift of choice. She knows what she wants but in a store this size, it has proven difficult to find that perfect present. We round a corner; “It should be in the bedroom section,” she murmurs as we trudge on. Unable to locate the gift in the home-wares, bedroom accessories, or the intervening sections of dorm, cookery, and linens, we ask a store employee.
The employee leads us in a winding path deeper into the store, past glassware and a vast array of wicker items, to the furniture section. He reaches up, pulls out a box, and he hands us my mom’s ideal present: a breakfast tray. “It’s the perfect gift,” she repeats, satisfied, as we the leave the store with the present safely secured. “It’s special. It’s the perfect way to begin a good day; you wake up and someone brings you breakfast in bed. They’ll need a tray table for that.”
I point out that had the couple wanted a breakfast tray table, they could have registered for it. They certainly were not shy about what the did want, as evidenced by the $60 garbage can they had put on their registry. “It’s because they don’t know they need it,” she says dismissively. “They’ll love it.”