I found this lone piggybank in a toy store and embraced it right away, looking suspiciously to my left and to my right to check if someone will get it from me.

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No other takers. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Kidding.

But to tell you the truth, when I got it, I initially thought of giving it as a gift to one of my nephews or nieces but then as the countdown to Christmas lost digit after digit, I started wanting it for myself (it would be perfect too for my daughter…).

Because it was not just your regular piggybank – it was a piggybank that makes a provision for savings, spending, donation and investment.

At Christmas time, the mall is particularly stressful. I mean the crowds are massive and stifling, the parking is horrible, the merchandise is overpriced.

Christmas never used to be this way. It used to be special. The glittery, dreamy, new-clothes-new-shoes-lots-of-gifts-and-sparkles kiddy kind of special.

(Or is it because, then, I was not in charge (and not spending)?)

But I have grown up (as I must) and now it is my turn to make it special for my brood.

(And I wonder, was it stressful too for my mom and dad, or is it more stressful now because the world has become more fast-paced, more guilt-ridden, more material-focused?)

So ever since the countdown for Christmas began, I have been on the lookout for other alternative ways to give or buy gifts without breaking the bank or losing my sanity. Here are some of my picks:

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“What? You will not give each other any gifts for Christmas?!!!”

I had to laugh at the incredulous look on my sister-in-law’s face as I shook my head from side to side. She could not imagine that we would want no surprises or take no surreptitious trips to the market to find that certain something that would delight a lover.

We have taken the same route with my daughter, who chose her Monopoly game board, Here and Now Edition (electronic banking instead of paper money!), with care, over a coveted Baby Alive (she thought it was too expensive – I am so proud of her). We bought it and wrapped it together and I do not think her excitement waned or was lessened because she still waited for “the day” until she could play with it and play with us (she lost during our first game and wanted to cry but won during the second and got her confidence back – we do not believe in letting her win just because she is a kid).

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In the lobby of our office stands the most beautiful Christmas tree.

It is majestic, tall, towering. The green leaves are lost in the reds and golds and in the crystals and the globes and red-golden ribbons and a hundreds, maybe thousands, of twinkling lights. I could almost feel Christmas-y at the sight of this tree, my ears peaking at the sound of the soft strains of – aaahh, Christmas music. At the crown are a thousand shimmering cascades of red stars beckoning all to come and see.

A seemingly farcical treat to this Christmas that promises to be different from all the rest.

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They say that you can never truly own a Maltese. It owns you. That cannot be truer than Yoyow. I bid her come and she looks at me, lying down, wagging her tail slightly, with her come-hither-yeah-NO-YOU-COME-TO-ME-look and I can only shake my head and walk to her, the brat.

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