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The Chaos of Gift Bags and Thank You Notes
by Sarah Jones
Updated: Sep. 21, 2017
Originally Published: March 5, 2015
If you’ve ever found yourself putting together 25 gift bags for a child’s birthday celebration or watched your eight-year-old struggle to write the same two sentences on numerous thank you cards, you’re likely acquainted with the maddening urge that often accompanies these seemingly simple tasks: the desire to bang your head against the wall. Repeatedly.
Yes, those pesky gift bags and thank you notes. Why do we subject ourselves to this?
Here’s my theory: there exists a clandestine society of overzealous parents whose goal is to complicate the lives of regular parents by establishing absurd social norms that no sane person could meet without resorting to heavy caffeine consumption. This elite group is rumored to be backed by greeting card companies and that toy manufacturer infamous for their miniature parachuting soldiers (you know, the ones that tangle up the first time your child plays with them and end up in the trash while your kid cries).
This organization is presumably called “The Committee for the Establishment of Social Norms to Overwhelm Everyday Parenthood” (because they thrive on complexity). For brevity, they refer to themselves as “The Social Norms Committee.”
Ordinary parents, of course, are not invited to the meetings of The Social Norms Committee, which is why ludicrous ideas like gift bags and thank-you notes are always approved. If a couple of regular parents were to infiltrate such a meeting, it might unfold like this:
One of the ordinary parents would stand up, knocking over a metal folding chair, and exclaim, “You expect me to spend 150 dollars on a lawn-destroying bounce house and then another 50 bucks on a bag of trinkets for each child?” The Committee members would exchange nervous glances and reply, “Well, darling, how else are we supposed to make other parents feel inadequate?” Their usual polished demeanor would falter, not realizing that ordinary parents had breached their ranks. The ordinary parent would retort, “But what if I’ve already dedicated a significant amount of time to cleaning, decorating, and entertaining? Isn’t that sufficient?”
At this point, the Committee would sense trouble because regular parents don’t use phrases like “significant amount of time.” They would hastily call for a vote on the matter of gift bags before the situation escalated. “All in favor?” someone would ask, with all but the ordinary parents raising their hands. Meanwhile, the ordinary parents would shout, “I refuse to endorse this nonsense!”
The ordinary parents would lose their tempers and physically restrain the Committee members until they agreed to remove gift bags from consideration. Security would arrive just in time to escort the ordinary parents out, citing a recent provision that banned physical confrontations during meetings.
This is unfortunate because it would mean the ordinary parents would miss the discussion about thank-you notes. If they had been allowed to stay, their response might have been something like: “Do you have a vendetta against the planet? Is it just trees you despise? Because I can’t fathom a more wasteful use for paper than creating notes that are discarded the moment they’re read—if they’re read at all. The only conclusion is that you have a deep-seated hatred for the Earth. ARE YOU ALL CRAZY?”
By now, metal chairs would be flying, and security would be using tasers indiscriminately, oblivious to who was a Committee member. The chaos caused by ordinary parents would leave the Committee in such turmoil that they would likely never reconvene.
Hooray! Ordinary parents triumph!
Yet, reality check: this is a comforting illusion. Regular parents are clearly not invited to these secretive gatherings where critical decisions about our experiences are made without our consent.
But here we are, right? Let’s unite. While we may feel powerless as individuals, together we can challenge these ridiculous social expectations that have surreptitiously infiltrated our most cherished celebrations.
From this moment forward, I declare: I will no longer prepare gift bags nor compel my child to write out 25 thank-you notes! Instead, I will secure an impressive bounce house, bake scrumptious cupcakes (okay, they’re from a box, but they’re still delicious), order a mountain of pizza, and keep your child entertained for hours.
And when you return from your much-deserved break, I’ll greet you with a genuine, heartfelt hug, and you’ll receive a verbal “thank you” from both me and my child.
And because you’re an ordinary parent as well, you’ll likely respond, “No, thank you!”
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In summary, the societal pressure of gift bags and thank-you notes often feels overwhelming and unnecessary. Yet, by standing together as ordinary parents, we can challenge and change these expectations. It’s time to prioritize what truly matters—meaningful connections and joyful celebrations without the added burden of unrealistic norms.
Keyphrase: social expectations in parenting
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