“Surprise!” I shouted, taking the blindfold from my wife Dawn‘s eyes.
In front of us was a wide expanse of land, most of it marked by a series of red stakes driven into the ground in regular intervals. “For Sale” signs fronted the road. We were on the edge of Tontitown, near an expanse of evergreens and a county highway.
“What am I looking at?” my wife asked me with an odd look of consternation on her face.
“Land. I bought you a little piece of land for Christmas.” I smiled, demonstrating how proud I was of my surprise.
“What? Which part of it is mine?” she quizzed.
“That 15-feet wide parcel on the left is all yours.” I waved my arm.
“Why? What am I going to do with THAT?” Her voice rose an octave.
“Remember when I asked you what you wanted for Christmas a while back?”
She thought for a moment and said, “Yes, but I didn’t ask for land, much less such a small piece.”
“Aha! But you did. I asked you over and over what you might want for Christmas – and finally told me that you did not want a WHOLE lot for Christmas.”
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 