It seems like I've been buying toys for my sons for a long, long time. And for good reason—I have been.

And as the years go by, not much really changes. Even after they reach their adult years, they still like to play with toys—it's just that now their toys are more expensive.

Take my 27-year-old son for example. His birthday was last weekend, and I wanted to get him something nice—maybe a dozen golf balls, or a polo shirt, or a couple of baseball books. You know, something really nice ... in a really nice price range.

So I asked him what he wanted. And that was my first mistake.

"Oh, I don't know," he said.

"Come on, there's got to be something you want," I urged. "You know, you don't turn 27 every day."

"Nah, I really can't think of anything," he said.

"Now, there's got to be something you want!" I demanded.

"Well, I guess I could use a new set of golf clubs," he said. "And there's a set I've had my eye on at Don Sherwood's."

"Golf clubs?" I gulped. "Do you know much golf clubs cost?"

"Hey, you asked," he said.

Well, he's right, I did ask. And I suppose it's really my fault that he asked for something as expensive as a set of golf clubs. After all, I have spoiled him rotten for the last 27 years.

It's just that when he was 4 years old and asked for a set of golf clubs, the set of "plastic" irons and woods only cost me about $6.95 at Toys R Us.

I guess I have been a little extravagant when it comes to gift giving through the years—a laptop last Christmas, a trip to the Baseball Hall of Fame for his high school graduation, a TV with built-in VCR last birthday, a car for his college graduation.

And the real trouble with that is ... the youngest son takes notes.

So when he graduated from high school, he reminded me, "Dad, remember what you gave Mike for graduation—a trip to the Hall of Fame."

"OK, that sounds fair," I admitted. "How about if I take you to the Football Hall of Fame?"

"I'd rather go to Hawaii," he said.

"Well, I can't go to Hawaii without your mother," I explained.

"Oh, I didn't mean that I wanted to go with you," he said. "A bunch of us guys are going. I just want you to pay for it."

Hmmm.

I suppose that I really come by all of this quite naturally. You see, my mom spoiled me rotten and was an equally extravagant gift giver. We were always greeted by a mountain of presents every Christmas morning, and on birthdays she spared no expense.

Wouldn't you know it—I couldn't take after my dad's example of fiscal responsibility, spending sensibility and money-saving ability—OK, the guy was cheap! No, I had to follow my mom's philosophy—"There must be enough money—there are still checks in the checkbook!"

So I spend last weekend shopping for golf clubs—spent being the key word here. And I threw in a dozen golf balls, a polo shirt and a couple of baseball books.

Hey, what can I say—it's my mom's fault!

Want to talk? Call me at 408.354.3110, ext. 31, or drop me a note at dsparrer@svcn.com.