When I was growing up, I used to try really hard to get my mum nice presents.
One time, I bought her a pretty set of candlesticks and a candlestick holder. A Chinese friend told me that giving Mum candlesticks would be a really bad idea because they symbolise mortality and death (or something like that).
Another time, I spent all my pocket money on a tiny pair of earrings - all I could afford, but the best I could afford. When she opened up the package and saw them, Mum told me straight out that they weren't very nice. A few days later, when she was out shopping with me, she took them to a second hand shop and sold them for five dollars.
Once I started working, I was able to get her more expensive presents. One Christmas, I bought her a hundred-dollar bathrobe. It was soft, red (her favourite colour I thought) and luxurious. It hung in the wardrobe, unused. At least she didn't trash it.
Then I caught on to buying her food items. She loves oysters, so if the gift-giving occasion coincided with the Bluff oyster season, my brother and I would go halves on three-dozen oysters. Success.
I've gotten more practical as I've gotten older (horror of horrors, I am turning into my mother). In the last few years, I've given her either money or hair-care products (which she has specified). And she's perfectly happy.
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