Not only have we (and by we, I mean me: Jena = 37 boxes, Grahm = 0. . . because I'm OCD, not because he's as lazy as the lazy Susan in your grandmother's house . . . ?) been unpacking ourselves into an oblivion and making decisions that are wonderful and life-changing like "Where should the silverware go? Here it's closer to the dishwasher, but there it's closer to the table" but we've also been wrapping presents for Christmas. . . or at least trying to get ready for our 15-hour road trip to Nashville. (We better get extra presents for this century-long drive, mom.)
Grahm is actually some kind of oragami master sculptor. What this kid can do with some Scotch tape and cheap wrapping makes my measly attempts look like Helen Keller went to town on the present. It's naked-baby-picture embarrassing.
My only job was to pick out the dang wrapping paper. Epic Dollar Tree fail. That red crap is completely see-through. And this "silver" stuff turned out to be a giant roll of Seran-wrap . . . seriously, who wants to wrap their presents in invisible wrapping paper? Not cool.
So if the world ends tomorrow, Grahm and I will be somewhere between Mexico and Nashville with a car full of unwrapped presents and house full of cardboard. That merits a mega whale face
Link up with the lovely Katie and me!