Three years after the divorce, I am still getting boxes of stuff that are "mine". I sort through them, and some are cool, like pictures and yearbooks, and some are dumb, like a 3 foot beer yard.
The last batch included a Matchbox Car Hot Wheels Watch. I was scratching my head, trying to figure out who the hell I had bought that for. My sisters kids weren't old enough for watches (as it had to be 3 years old at least), so I was completely baffled.
Tonight, we were putting some of the old photos into picture collage frames to line my stairwell, and I wasn't paying attention, but Kimberly (my 9 year old) grabbed the watch and opened it up and started messing with it.
"What are you doing?" I yelled. "That's not for you!"
"No duh, Dad." She said. "I bought it for you a long time ago as a Christmas present."
Whoops. Vaguely remember getting that gift, and giggling it at the time at the silliness and cuteness of it. But was floored that she remembered a gift she gave me five years ago when she was 4. And without skipping a beat, she set the time and date for me tonight, and put it on my wrist, as she would have tried to do 5 years ago.
I played it off like I knew all along it was my present. I feel a little crappy, but I tell you what, if you see me on the street, and ask me what time it is, you can bet your ass that the Matchbox HotWheels watch will be the source of my information.
I will wear this watch until she tells me to stop.
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