… on apple pride


Yesterday, a Christmas miracle happened.

I was cleaning Self-Proclaimed Perfect Boy Gabe’s and Number One Son Sam’s bedroom (yes, to ready them for the Christmas blankets and decorations that will greet them when they get home (it’s a compulsion))… anyway I went into Gabe’s closet to put something in one of his inside-the-closet drawers… and there it was. An old Apple iPhone box, one from years ago. I stopped as the memory hit me.

Christmas morning.

A huge box in front of Gabe. 

Knowing what was inside.


Gabe opens that box.

Then a smaller one inside of it.

Then a smaller one inside of that one.

And, after five or six boxes (maybe more), a small box.

You know, about the size that the brand new, super zippy and exciting iPhone might come in – the one he’s been jonesin’ for, but didn’t expect Santa had the time or energy to make.

Gabe opening it, holding it.

Petting it, saying “yessssssssss!” with a big smile on his face. The rest of us hooting and clapping and wahoo’ing.

Yep. That box.

I sighed at the memory and went to put it back into the drawer… and stopped.

What if…

Dare I hope?

I lifted the top slowly, slid it up and off.

Inside was the super white plastic that the phone was nested in on that Christmas morning years ago.

I carefully lifted the plastic insert by the tab and looked beneath it.

That’s where the ear buds were…

Huh. That’s it.


Wait, what’s that under there?

‘Finger Tips’… phone info… Oh-My-Gawd-YES!!!

Two Apple stickers. You know, the white ones that come with all devices Apple.

My mind screamed at me: “Are they big or little? BIG OR LITTLE?!!!”

I grabbed them and race-walked to my bedroom (probably not using official olympic race-walking technique) and pulled open the drawer in my teeny antique oak table-desk-thing.

Pulled out the other apple stickers I’d been saving.


I’ve needed one more little apple – just one more – for years!

I ran downstairs with my apples and nabbed the scissors from the make-shift Christmas season wrapping station in the hall…

Made the required alteration and raced out to the garage, to the driver’s side, rear window of Gronk (my talented, handsome, hard-working goofball of a truck).

Then I set to work, checking off an item on the to-do list nestled in a file folder of my brain. The satisfaction came to life in a smile.

I stood back to admire my work.


Three… and a half… kids.

All the apples (or at least half-apples) of my eye.


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