When I was in Kindergarten, my school set up a small make-shift store in the computer lab that sold small trinkets for mother’s day. We were all so excited when we filed down to the small room near the cafeteria, clutching our quarters and dimes. I remember what I bought very clearly: a ceramic swan whose back was hollowed out to hold a bar of fancy soap, a small wooden dog that had elastic thread holding the joints together and when you pushed a small button under the platform it was attached to, it bowed. I also bought a foot-long plastic back scratcher that had a hand attached to the stick and the hand made a claw shape (I really thought that one was clever). The swan went to grandma, the dog to mother, and the back scratcher to dad because I didn’t want him to feel left out. All the gifts were quite unattractive (bless Grandma for displaying that swan soap holder in the main bathroom) but I felt a sense of glowing pride for being so considerate.