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You may recall my gloaty/whiney post about having completed the next 12 months of Christmas and birthday present shopping for The Feral Threesome back in July.
To update you - Thus far…
I have not forgotten where I hid the presents, as I previously have and worried I may do again, given how early they were purchased and hidden. No FFS!?
The kids did not find the presents mere days after I hid them, as they have in the past and I worried they may do again, given my lack of hiding places, creativity, and effort. No FFS!?
I didn’t have the chance to forget where I’d put them.
The kids took slightly longer than a few days to find them.
Last week Miss4 came downstairs and asked who the scooter wrapped in the garbage bags inside the suitcase at the back of my wardrobe underneath the boxes was for…. FFS!?
Because, you know, it’s totally normal for her to go into my wardrobe.
To a suitcase at the back.
That sits underneath a pile of boxes.
And after pulling all that down and out of the way, of course she would open the suitcase.
And pull out all the garbage bags.
And find the boxed up bloody scooter that Santa was going to give her.
Mofo FFS!?
The kid has never been interested in going into my wardrobe before.
She has seen the suitcase there when watching me hang clothes up (read: blindly tossing #1Hubby’s shit inside the closet to later feign surprised while claiming that they must’ve slipped off their hangers).
Never has she ever expressed any sort of curiosity or interest in the suitcase.
Why would she?
BECAUSE SHE HAS PRESENT RADAR. FFS!?
Of course the slimy little mini mofo had to call her brother and sister in to inspect the bounty. And so the other 2 scooters were discovered. FFS!?
She didn’t even come to me first, allowing me the opportunity to negotiate and bribe her to keep her mouth shut. FFS!?
So now I’ve had to madly pull out all the birthday and Christmas gifts and rearrange them so that Santa gives them all something else. FFS!?
Otherwise, Miss4 (by far the smartest of the family) would’ve easily equated Santa to us and thus blown my annual enjoyment trying to stay awake longer than them on Christmas Eve, so that I can eat a giant carrot (they ALWAYS choose the biggest bloody carrot in the bag to leave out for the reindeer), drink the disgusting beer (why can’t Santa have a nice chilled glass of Semi Sav Blanc???), and then eat half a stale choc chip cookie that goes fabulously with flat disgusting beer and shit loads of carrot (why no Triple Cream Brie to go with the SSB?). FFS!?
I know I've said it before, but seriously yo - where's my parent of the year award? FFS!?
