“Daddy and I won’t be able to give you a big present this year,” my mother said quietly. “But why?” I asked, wondering what I’d managed to do in the last couple of weeks that had landed me in such hot water. “We just can’t afford to buy your corrective shoes and an expensive gift this year. I’m so sorry, honey,” she said, pulling me to her. “You’ll still have lots of things under the tree,” she reassured me, ruffling my hair. Why We Wrote This Disappointment is a sour fact of life.