Gaps

Our 9-year-old son locked himself in his room with his haul of presents.

Afer a period of time punctuated with rustling sounds and the “scrchk!” of tape, he emerged triumphant with wrapped presents.

Upon examining them I had to ask, “Why is there a Twizzler’s wrapper glued to the end of this present?”

He shrugged. “There was a gap.”

(Duh, Mom.)

He couldn’t have chosen a more festive piece of trash to cover the gap—it even matches the wrapping paper.

“It’s perfect.” I said.

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