The Peeker

THE PEEKER

Looking at her you would never suspect she was capable of such deeds. A silver-haired Iowa woman of great style, impeccable manners, and a great-grandmother of five; you normally don’t expect someone her age to be one. It is usually the young, cherub faced child that succumbs to the temptation, not the "little old lady" gnarled by arthritis who is afflicted with "sticky fingers". But, alas, a "sticky fingered" peeker she was.

It all started several years ago during the holiday season. Unable to make it home for Christmas, we decided to send my husband’s 92-year-old grandmother a box which held twelve presents representing the Twelve Days of Christmas. Labeling each present with a particular number, Grandma was instructed to open each on the prescribed day.

Things went well the first couple of days. "I love the soap. It smells so nice, like my Grandmother’s own rose garden," she would exclaim in delight.

It wasn’t until the third day that things began to seem amiss. "The candle looks so nice in the living room," she said. "It matches the color of the walls."

Odd, I thought. The candle was gift number seven. Oh well, maybe she just slipped up and opened it by mistake. Just in case, I reiterated that she was to open each gift on the day marked. For safe measure, I asked with the sternest voice I could muster, "You’re not peeking, are you Grandma?"

"Who me," she laughed. "You don’t really think I am capable of such a thing, do you? Why, Santa’s been coming to my house for 92 years because I’ve been such a good girl. I’m sure he wouldn’t come and visit me for Christmas if that were so. No, I wouldn’t dare chance such a thing, would you?"

Somewhat reassured I was relieved when day four came and went without a hitch. She loved the little silver bell engraved with the names of the grandchildren that would eventually become the centerpiece of her collection.

Day five arrived cold and bright. "I really love the bedside light," she said with glee.

Strange, I thought. I’m just sure that light was day eleven’s gift. Obviously, a gotcha plan was in order.

The next day I called her and casually asked, "So, how did you like the scarf we sent?"

"Oh, it is so beautiful," she replied. "It reminds me of all of the colors of fall."

Thoughts swirled around in my mind. The scarf was present number ten but today was day six. It just didn’t make sense ...and at her age. She wouldn’t ... she couldn’t... but indeed it appeared that... Grandma was a peeker!

"Grandma," I exclaimed. "You’ve been peeking haven’t you. There’s no sense denying it. Today’s present was suppose to be picture of our family. I’ve caught you with your hand in Santa’s cookie jar."

"Oh, all right. I guess I must confess," she said with a sigh. "I’m a peeker. But what do you expect? I’m 92 and may not live long enough to open all these gifts. It would be a terrible waste of your time and money if I didn’t get to enjoy all of this. But don’t worry. After I opened all the presents that first day, I wrapped them back up so I could surprise myself all over again. At my age my memory is not as good as it used to be so I get double the joy; two presents for the price of one you might say. You should be happy that I’ve had this much fun. Why, you can’t even tell that the paper has been unwrapped and the tape has been moved. Besides, it’s kept me off the streets and I’ve done a pretty good job if I do say so myself."

So to all you shoppers out there who are giddy with anticipation of the forthcoming holiday season, I have a bit of advice. Double wrap and use double-sided tape in order to lift the fingerprints of your own potential peeker. For you just never know what form they will take or where they might lurk. Gotcha!