Mother's Day or "I Would Have Been Happy with the Cross"

So here's the thing with Mother's Day...

The Friday before Mother's Day, my oldest son brings home a portrait from art class of a blonde, blue-green eyed woman (who looks a lot like our good friend and neighbor, by the way) and says "Happy Mother's Day." When I mention my eyes and hair are brown, he says "Yea that's just a picture of a random woman." What do I do with that? Either he's looking to trade-up and have our neighbor as a mother, or I've just been equated with some random woman.
Saturday morning, on the way home from spin class, this same blonde neighbor (now my competition apparently) asks me if I want to be dropped off at my youngest son's soccer game. "No," I say. "I've got a lot to do today. I don't have time to watch him sit and pick dandelions and think about our part in the Griffiths family athletic legacy (seriously...three boys...not one athlete in the bunch?)" An hour later, the phone rings, "tell mom what happened." my husband says. "I scored a goal!" says the dandelion picker. Great, now I have guilt.
Sunday morning, "Close your eyes mom." The annual father-son shopping trip has taken place and the gift processional has begun. Years past have included a soft-ice cream machine, a body pillow and two back scratchers. The first offering, well not technically the first because the night before I was handed three of a ten pack of snickers (yeah, you want to know where the other seven went too, right?) was a flowering plant with a card, the next was another flowering plant and the phrase "I got you some chocolate too, but I ate it." The third and final offering was a gaint bucket of red vines. This came from the artist (mr. some random woman) who says "I saw that it said fat free and thought that would be good for you, besides I know you don't like red vines too much and figured you'd probably just end up giving them to me."
My husband then pipes up. "You should have seen what they wanted to get you." Dandelion had discovered something 'Just like on tv'. It was a huge bejeweled cross necklace. Now the people of my faith don't focus too much on crucifixion and crosses aren't exactly a regular accessory so I get that my husband steered him toward the flowering plant, but what's up with the red vines? No intervention there? I love my kids, and I know it's the thought that counts (even if the thought is how to score a big bucket of licorice for yourself) but I gotta say, "I would have been happy with the cross. It might have had diamonds.