If anyone gifts my 5-yr-old an object that makes or plays music, I will personally see to it that Santa takes a giant shit in their stocking.
Gifts with a little more warmth than anything plastic or sporting a screen.
A roundup of ideas for the father who probably isn’t 73 years old and would rather write a letter in his own blood than spend $45 on a pen.
If anything just call her up and say, “I’m so sorry for everything.” She’ll know immediately who it is.
I suddenly looked up and, oh. Christmas is next week. Next week. Or, as Leta puts it, THE FARTHEST AWAY ANYTHING HAS EVER BEEN!
I will forgive them for not making me a hot dog.