I remember one Christmas when I must have been 7 or 8. My mum was opening a present from my dad and unwrapped a set of saucepans. I thought to myself at this age that I never wanted to be a grown up if everything you got as a present was actually just stuff you needed. Where was the fun in that?
I also know my daughter has the same sentiments. She was visibly unimpressed this year on her birthday when someone bought her a plain t-shirt with no character or even pattern on it, and when shopping for a present for my father-in-law's birthday this year she had a full on frustrated tantrum because she couldn't get her head around the idea that he would want anything other than a toy as his present!
Don't get me wrong, if my husband or anyone else buys me a set of saucepans this Christmas I will not be impressed but I'm wondering if lusting after certain household objects, secretly wishing you could own them is what determines when you're officially a grown up. I've never considered myself to be a grown up, I still have to stifle a snigger if someone in my class passes wind audibly, I find the News boring and my favourite sweets are white mice, but I've recently found myself considering putting some household items on my Christmas list this year (along with perfume and impractical shoes obviously)!
When does a necessity become a luxury? When we redecorated, hubby was happy to spend the extra on the furniture to get the nicer version, the solid oak rather than the veneer, but when it comes to other necessities, he gets really agitated if I suggest getting a 'nicer' version. Things like oven gloves, tea towels, fruit bowls, you get the idea. He understands we need them, but not why we need the (beautiful, pretty Cath Kidston) ones which cost more than the Sainsbury's Basics ones.
So for the first time ever, I'm considering asking for some householdy type things for Christmas. If I do ask for a gorgeous cup cake stand, some perfume I like (but am seduced by the bottle it comes in just as much) or some pretty china bowls for Christmas, does this mean I've officially reached adulthood and will be yearning after saucepans before I hit 32? Please no!