My husband is a practical man. I don't suppose he is to blame for this, since he was raised by folks who lived through the Great Depression and who believed that only one gift (probably socks) was an acceptable thing for a boy to open on Christmas morning. But I blame him anyway, because in the process of being married to him for over 24 years he has ruined me. And I don't mean 'ruined' in the Biblical sense, although that's true, too. What I mean is that I have come to accept that I'm never again going to get what I really want for Christmas.
I can illustrate this perfectly by using only two examples:
EX. 1: One year as Christmas approached, it was obvious that our television was going out. Do you know what I wanted for Christmas? Probably diamonds. Do you know what I got for Christmas? That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I got a television set. Have I mentioned that I don't watch TV all that much?
EX 2: My husband had been complaining about the mountain of clutter which always manifests itself after ten or fifteen years of raising children. So that year on Christmas morning, I was surprised and rather grateful to find that Santa had left, beneath the tree, several plastic storage containers, all shiny and new and ready to fill. But wait! There's more! All wrapped up in pretty Christmas paper, totally unable to camouflage itself, was a brand new toilet seat.