From lemon squeezer to Peter Rabbit.

Judge not, that ye be not judged. Last night i had the most bizarre dream. I am actually embarrassed to tell you any details. All I can say is I was NOT participating in any activities. It was like watching a very weird movie. In short, the events took place in what I can only describe as an erotic circus. I wonder if those even exist. Because, if not, we could be talking huge business potential here.

I have been talking to my Russian friend about her English in-laws. I love that subject. It never fails to amuse and entertain me. It feels good to discuss in-laws, because it always makes you appreciate yours more. Because, however strange I might find something my mother in law does, she cannot compare, in my wildest dreams, with these guys.

Besides some other bizarre habits, one of the best aspects of their behaviour is their choice of presents.

A long time ago, when my friend was freshly married to their son, and settled in London, she received her first birthday gift from the in-laws. She unwrapped the parcel to find a special lemon squeezing device. A very practical item for any household.

I wondered if they, perhaps, thought that someone from a country like Azerbaijan would find a lemon-squeezing tool miraculous. Like natives would find a lighter. Wow! Fire from a little stick comes out it does! Lemon gets squeezed by pressing two metal pieces together!

The next year things got more interesting. She received an A4 size collage of the in-laws hiking trip to the mountains. Their photos. Their diary. Their collage.

Why, why, why would anyone send their memoirs to someone as a birthday gift? Unless you are Madonna and you know that it will sell for a reasonable amount of cash, why create more recycling material?

But wait a minute! We are not done yet.

Last year, my friend had another gift from them. It was Beatrix Potter children’s stories. Part I.

At this point, my friend might have lost her manners a little. After years of bizarre gifts, she decided to point out that she was into a somewhat different genre of books in her ripe age of the late thirties. 'Well', the in-laws said 'We felt it was something of a British classic. Every home should own a copy, in our opinion' they said.

The hint she gave them last year bounced back like a tennis ball; and this year, on her birthday, she received....yes. The rest of the Beatrice Potter’s classic collection. Part II.

If you ask me, I say that was a slap in her face. An open invitation to a bare knuckle fight. You get a slap like that and it is your choice, you either swallow it and feel like a total CHMO; or you tell them where to stick their English classics, and then you are just a horrible, ungrateful daughter in law with no manners or respect for the English culture.  She chose the latter.

Sometimes, with people like that, hints don’t work. Manners get ignored. Polite requests get stepped over. You ask them not to do something and they do it anyway. It happens often with in-laws. They have their own reasons and their own agendas; and we can only try to understand. Most importantly, we must try to remember that one day, we will be in their place. One day my little girl with marry someone who will probably think I am weird. Oh, he most definitely will. So, I am just trying to accept my in-laws with all their good and bad habits, and be thankful they accept me with mine. And be hopeful that my daughter’s future family accepts me, too. But I must make a note to never send them my memoirs for their birthdays. However tempted I might be.