Thoughts from the Aunt Who Has Absolutely No Grip on These Changing Wish Lists
It’s December 1. There’s nothing quite as heartwarming—and terrifying—as a child approaching you in December with that spark in their eyes and saying,
“For Christmas, I want…”
That sentence is not just a statement.
It is a commitment.
It is a threat.
It is an ever-evolving, mood-swing-powered contractual obligation that can—and will—change every time they blink.
Phase 1: The Opening Line That Gives Aunties Heart Issues
You know it’s coming.
The dramatic inhale.
The tiny gasp.
The innocent voice that says,
“For Christmas, I want…”
And immediately, your soul leaves your body to pray in advance.
Because unlike adults—who make a list once—children treat their Christmas wishes like a Spotify playlist.
Editable.
Rearrangeable.
Completely dependent on their mood, the weather, or what they just watched on YouTube.
Phase 2: The Outrageous Requests… Updated Every 5 Minutes
Children will want the following:
A unicorn at 9:00 AM
because they saw a pastel rainbow toy.
A T-Rex at 10:03 AM
because Dino Ranch popped up on their tablet.
A real spaceship at 10:07 AM
because NASA posted a TikTok.
A puppy at 10:10 AM
because they saw one walking outside.
A hamster at 10:11 AM
because the puppy barked too loudly.
A mermaid tail at 10:12 AM
because somebody put on “The Little Mermaid.”
Kids’ Christmas wishes are not fixed goals—they’re weather patterns.
Fully unpredictable.
No forecasting possible.
Phase 3: The Mall-Triggered Wish List Explosion
Take them to the mall and suddenly they want…
- the entire toy aisle
- a life-sized ride-in car
- a bubble machine, a cotton candy maker, a popcorn maker, and a karaoke set (for “performances”)
- a 6-foot teddy bear bigger than your living room
- whatever the child in the next aisle just touched for 0.3 seconds
- a quite-expensive toy “because it’s small ” (red flag logic)
And heaven forbid you pass by the claw machines.
Because then you will also owe…
- a plush toy
- a backup plush toy
- tears if the claw drops it
- emotional support for the next three days
Phase 4: Mood-Swing Wishes, or “Santa Who?”
Some kids don’t even need a full day to change their wish list.
Sometimes the wish expires before they finish talking.
“For Christmas, I want—”
(sees ice cream)
“—never mind, I want ice cream.”
“For Christmas, I want a robot dog!”
(robot dog barks)
“Actually no. I want a quiet dog.”
“For Christmas, I want a tablet!”
(tablet battery dies)
“I want something that lasts forever.”
Sweetie… same.
“For Christmas, I want to be a princess!”
Five minutes later:
“For Christmas, I want to be a dinosaur.”
Two minutes after that:
“For Christmas, I want to be a dinosaur princess.”
Honestly? Iconic.
Phase 5: The Wish That Depends on What They Saw on YouTube
YouTube and TikTok are wish-list generators.
One video:
“I want slime!”
Next video:
“I want a slime factory.”
Next next video:
“I want a mansion for the slime factory.”
Kids today aren’t wishing for gifts.
They’re wishing for entire economic industries.
Phase 6: The Geography-Defying Requests
“For Christmas, I want snow!”
But, honey, we’re in a tropical country. The only thing falling from the sky here is humidity.
“For Christmas, I want Santa’s sleigh.”
Sure—let me ask an app if they have that.
“For Christmas, I want the moon.”
That’s not a gift, love. That’s a solar system theft.
Phase 7: The Aunt Accepts Her Fate
Despite the changing requests…
Despite the daily revisions…
Despite the emotional rollercoaster of
“I WANT THIS!”
“I DON’T WANT THIS ANYMORE!”
“AUNTIE WHY DIDN’T YOU BUY THE THING I SAID I DIDN’T WANT ANYMORE?”
…you know what?
You still show up.
You still listen.
You still laugh.
You still love them through their mood-swing wishlist chaos.
And somewhere deep in your stressed adult soul, you think:
“Maybe I can find a unicorn… on sale… with free shipping.”
Final Thought: Let Them Dream Wild (Even if They Change It Later)
Kids make outrageous, ever-changing Christmas wishes because that’s the magic of childhood—
pure imagination, unlimited hope, and zero concept of budgets.
And as their resident aunt, your job is simple:
Laugh, survive, adapt, and love them through every wish—
even the ones that expire after 45 seconds.
I hope we survive the twenty-four days before you actually hand them their gifts that you think will be best for them, not the one(s) they are actually expecting.
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