When I was a kid, gathering for christmas with the Stevenson clan, you had a pretty good idea what you were going to hear if you asked about a Christmas present. They didn’t mind if you asked for a hint about what you were getting, but they would always, always reply: “It’s bigger than a breadbox, smaller than a house.” Which always made me think, “What the heck? That tells me nothing!”
I can’t help but think of that phrase now without grinning, because I bet I heard it a few hundred times growing up. I don’t know who said it first, (though I suspect Grandmother), because EVERYBODY said it. It was the standard clue, the universal hint. Wrapped up tight in all the traditions of Christmas was this useless answer, this sly clue even Sherlock Holmes himself couldn’t decode.
I know what it means now.
It’s a simple way of saying, “Silly boy, part of my gift is the moment of surprise, the moment you unwrap the present and see it for the first time. I’ll not take that away by telling you what’s in the paper.”
I loved speculating on what I’d get for Christmas. I don’t know that it’s really because I love presents, but truthfully, I just love a big surprise.
