"What do you want for Christmas?"

"Hmm..." I said to my husband, Brad who, like clockwork each year, asked me this same question two days before Christmas. "Pick something or you know you're going to be disappointed." Who was my husband kidding? Even when I told him what I wanted, "The blue dress on hold under the name "Laurie" at JC Penny's in the mall," he'd end up at Kohl's with a pink suit for someone named "Nora." On the chance that he did get it right, I'd be disappointed that he didn't think to buy cute earrings or a pretty necklace to go along with the dress.

"Why don't you get me a photo album?" I said knowing if I didn't give him some 'idea,' he'd end up at the mall on Christmas Eve way past closing bothering angry clerks who must help him choose between the JLo perfume or a leopard skin purse before they can get home to their families. Maybe it's a guy thing? Or maybe one learns about gift giving from the habits of parents or family?

It was a month before our first Christmas as husband and wife when I asked my new groom, "Who do we need to buy gifts for on your side?"

"Um...I dunno. No one really."

Later that day, I called Brad's mother who informed me otherwise in a tone that made it seem like I should have known this information from birth, "We exchange gifts with everyone." "Everyone?" I repeated, "That's like 22 people!" I was sure my mother-in-law was either being snotty to me or getting dementia. "Actually, it's 24 people," she said in a condescending tone.

Soon, I discovered that Brad's "I-have-lots-of-time-on-my-hands," sister suggested years earlier that everyone in the extended family (adults and kids included) exchange gifts. The dollar amount was twenty dollars each.

That year, because I was new to the family and hadn't developed ESP to determine what each person wanted, we gave cash to everyone. The next year the sister brainchild decided each person would pick only one relative to buy for. It was an easy solution everyone made easier by buying the 'I'm-too-lazy-to-shop' gift card.

The following year the whole idea of buying anything for the adults was such a pointless task, we dumped the idea and just got gifts for the kids. Now the adults look forward to our night together when someone finally announces it's time to play the white elephant game. That's the game families play where they scheme and collaborate all year in a hilarious effort to pawn useless junk (old holiday gifts) they've had sitting around their home for decades. Brad and his family had finally discovered the goal of gift giving: the gift should go beyond the gift, to the heart and what the giver feels toward the receiver.

Which is why Brad put that goal into our own relationship. That year he decided that we should stop exchanging purchased gifts and give something that says or expresses how we feel about our marriage and our life together, like planning a surprise trip, cooking a favorite dinner or writing a long love letter verbalizing inner most thoughts and feelings. Great idea, huh? Most of the time, it's just me doing these things, but I know Brad will catch onto his idea sooner or later.

In fact, last Christmas, he made his best attempt. Brad gave me a six page handwritten letter that brought me to tears Christmas morning. It wasn't the words that made me weep. It was the paper the words were written on: Nordstrom's shopping bags from the mall on Christmas Eve when he took our son shopping cause he forgot to buy me a gift. See? Tradition.