Six
Sweet mercy, Eva's six tomorrow. Years that is, not months. I know, crazy isn't it?
I must therefore dedicate the rest of this evening to night-before father stuff, like present wrapping. Kirsty has sneaked away for the week, possibly for the sole purpose of avoiding this most dreaded of tasks, so I'm on my own. I have scissors. I have sellotape. I have pink paper with hearts all over it.
I have only limited patience for this sort of thing, and an endless propensity for stabbing myself when I'm in a hurry.
There will be blood...
All worth it for my girl. Up to, but not including, the loss of fingers.
Happy birthday sweetheart.
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Don't know about you but I'm serially crap at wrapping presents. Whenever I attempt it the result is invariably a paper maelstrom of jagged, uneven lines, whiskers and asymmetrical jutting corners.
I think the wife'll have to end up wrapping our unborn childrens' presents. Unless she wants them to undergo 3 months of therapy after every birthday / Christmas etc.
I got away with it. Years of working the Borders register at Xmas, wrapping on demand, saw me though...
But it wasn't pretty...
You are so good at wrapping presents though. Even if I was there, you are the best man for the job.
Thank you, strange anonymous person who I suspect might be my fiancee.
Your powers of detection are astounding. Didn't notice that I had to put my name in - I'm getting blonder by the day...