One Big Happy

When I was a kid, my mom...er...Santa hid wrapped presents in a large storage closet in the basement. My brother and I knew they were in there so instead of just scoping out the packages, we actually unwrapped them, checked out our loot, and then rewrapped the presents. Actually, I did the rewrapping because my brother, like all men, still doesn't know how to wrap.

I've told this story to John many times in an effort to make him understand why I don't like surprises, and he is still just baffled. I guess some people really like getting things they don't want, need, or expect, and they don't immediately look to see if a gift receipt is conveniently taped to the bottom.

In my family now, we pretty much just give money.

At any rate, if you're wondering how this came to be, note the following incident which occured this week:

My father, per usual, requested my assistance in finding a gift for my mom. We left for our father/daughter shopping adventure on Sunday and returned with the gift. My dad was waiting in the car to leave with mom immediately, so I snuck the present inside and set it down in an inconspicuous location as I said to my mom,
Dad's waiting in the car and you guys are supposed to go to Grandpa's RIGHT NOW.

In the 3.5 minutes it took my mom to leave the house, she discovered her hidden present. How do I know? She moved the package just enough that my purse, next to the package, slipped.

I accused her later and, since she can't lie, my detective work was confirmed.

So, now the gift to my mom, wrapped by me, bought by my dad, contents known to ALL...sits under the tree for Christmas.