An Open Letter to Mr. You-Know-Who-You-Are:

Dear Sir-

Although I enjoy getting presents like anyone else, I believe you, and my husband, have some deep seeded roots of wickedness that should be discussed in detail with a professional. 

I should have known when the box came and Aaron snatched it up fast as lightning.  He placed in on the table with strict instructions not to touch it.  Sure.  Put a present on the table clearly addressed to both of us expect me not to poke at it?  Cruel.  Both of you.  But I digress. 

 

What on Earth could it be? I pondered at the table and sadly came to the realization that it wasn't a puppy. 

I'll save you the complaint that I NEVER get want I want.  Ever.  

   

Aaron grabbed a pocket knife while I  feverishly texted to let you know our surprise had made it here safely.   As he was opening the package I thought to myself, "My my what great FRIENDS we have!"

Allow me to help you with a few friendship skills.  

Take a note from that beautiful wife of yours.  Friends send pretty, soft, beautiful things that keep the receiver warm.  (To my favorite partner in crime, consider this a fist bump of gratitude for the lovely neck wraps.)

Exhibit A:

Let's continue shall we?

See, you almost had me fooled with your trickery.  Wrapping your so called "present" in a bag kept the mystery for just a little while longer.  Even Aaron's cackle did not deter me from thinking anything was awry.  I was too busy wrapping myself up in cloth extravagance.   

Still I kept guessing.  What delightful little gift could this possibly be?  Aaron interrupted my thoughts of  possible pleasantries with a "Ohh, he TOLD me about THIS!"

So sweet that you two have bonded.  Really. 

I was just as excited as he was until he began to pull this object out of it's wrapping.  

For those with weak stomach, I urge you to cover your eyes. 

This is not chocolate.  This is not a vase of flowers.  You should even check into the legal fine print about sending such things to innocent citizens like myself.  

My thoughts of admiration flew out of my thoughts as soon as Aaron began chasing me around the living room.  I believe I may have attained a nasty splinter.  If I get tetanus, are you going to feel sorry then?

To think I almost made you a carrot cake.

You still have one fan in our household.  Aaron still hasn't stopped grinning.  He has named it "The Beast".  I'm sure he would appreciate it very much if I thanked him for you.  Fat chance of that happening.

In closing, I would like to give you one last chance at redemption.  I accept all forms of handwritten apologies.  I can also be bought.    Until then, consider yourself officially off my Christmas list. 

Yours, 

Monica