Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim
Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah
A wise man buys a gift for his wife because it is something she wants to have, not because it is something he wants to give her.
Men give gifts all the time. They give women flowers, jewelry, candy, lingerie. Of course, with the lingerie, there is a lot of self-interest at work. If I were going to buy something to sleep in for myself, it would be something ugly, flannel, and comfortable. Most men buy these things because it is traditional; that’s what men have given to women for ages. There often isn’t a lot of thought involved.
My hubby knows what I like. He has brought me candy upon occasion, but he knows I prefer cookbooks to candy, books to bangles. Yesterday he brought me some wooden spoons. Wooden spoons? Wooden spoons? And not any wooden spoons, but nice, thick, chunky spoons like the kind my mom used to spank our butts with when we stayed out too late playing. Spoons for stirring up a pot of beans or beating a cake batter into submission. Nice spoons. Nice husband.
Now I have my spoons in the gadgets crock next to the stove. They stand at attention, ready for me. I’m making some chicken dish now and have used one of the spoons to stir in the onions and tomatoes. All the spoons will get a lot of use in my kitchen, by me and my kids. My kids will, of course, use them as drumsticks. The baby will gnaw on the handle. I’ll lose one or more for days at a time because they make great weapons for imaginary battles. Hopefully they’ll last a while, like the whisk I’ve been using for five years and the Kitchenaid mixer that I’ve had for about twelve. I like stuff to last. Even stuff like spoons. Nice spoons. Nice hubby.