I tried to watch the classic Bela Lugosi “Dracula” the other night right after we said good night to the driveway fire pit and told the neighbors across the street they had won Halloween: They not only stayed out past us, but they also had full-sized candy bars while we offered small bags of gummy bears.

We accepted defeat graciously, as we value wonderful neighbors.

So, while I settled in to see if Bela could scare me this year, I noticed that streaming anything these days means you also watch commercials. Even little clips on Instagram.  I knew it was only a matter of time.

But I digress.

The fire pit was still blazing. The hoots and hollers of trick-or-treaters could still be heard from neighborhoods near us with bigger houses and better candy.  

And right in the middle of “Dracula” rising from the cellar, Walmart rolled out its new Christmas commercial.

Yep. I’m sure it happened last year too but I didn’t notice.

So, of course, my kids started talking about Christmas the next day or so. Once the commercials start, you might as well get out to the garage attic and start the process. Our older kids are tickled that they make substantial incomes and are able to buy gifts they deem important – not knowing Michelle and I would still treasure paintings and homemade ornaments just as much now as we did when they were little.

My boys are taking me on a summer trip to Virginia this year, being the adults they are with car payments and responsibility. My oldest daughter is asking me questions about toasters and battery testers and grown-up gifts. Even the baby, who is now officially a teenager, is asking about things a little more costly than her usual art projects.

It is very hard to tell your kids what you want for Christmas. I say things like “everyone in the same house for 24 hours or more” or “peanut butter fudge” or “my car vacuumed.” 

 They roll their eyes and ask me for actual suggestions that make sense to them. So, I’ve made boring “Dad type” suggestions for them, which seem to suffice.

But sometimes I have some fun, too. I send them suggestions when I see funny gift ideas. I saw a cool bowling shirt with cartoon figures from 1960s and 70s sitcoms and sent them a link to  that.  I also sent my daughter a link to buying a funny T-shirt with Thomas Jefferson and a picture of the Declaration of Independence with Jefferson saying “Holy crap, that’s due tomorrow?”

She waited and bought it for me for Father’s Day.

For some reason, my kids did not get any procrastination genes from either side of their family. My son announced the other day he had finished his Christmas shopping. My daughter and her cronies are shopping periodically from now until Black Friday and plan to be finished before then so they can just celebrate that day.  

So, to sabotage their organized way of life, I start sending them ridiculous photos of things that they might consider for their mother or myself.

My favorite – and one which elicited the most groans from them – was a magnificent bed. The ad I sent them looked like a page from the Sears catalog. It was a “smart bed” which looked like a combination couch, recliner, and bed. As I said, it was magnificent. 

The bed is wired to charge electronic devices. It has a control panel which allows the recliner occupant to control things like heat, lights, and so forth.  It looks like you can run the whole house from the comfort of your chair. 

There is the capability of seeing who is at the door without getting up. There is a nice sized refrigerator next to the recliner. Because the recliner itself is attached to the bed, one can finish watching TV or reading in the recliner, then simply roll out of the recliner into bed.  

If it had some type of elaborate bathroom system built in, well.

I showed the kids the picture of the bed, waiting in anticipation for their reaction to my silliness, which seems to exasperate most of them.

“Alright Dad, that’s enough,” said my youngest. 

Dang. She’s usually my biggest fan and encourages my comedy.

Guess I’m on my own now.