When I was growing up, I hated not knowing what my Christmas presents were.
I searched every where for where my mom had hidden them. Felt every corner. Shook every box.
**Cade & Jackson, don't read this part
(even carefully opened up one corner of the present, peeked, and then pushed the tape back down)
These past couple of Christmases, I have known what every single one of my presents would be.
And it hasn't been that fun.
I was really looking forward to being surprised this year.
Went to the post office today.
Aaron's gift to me was sitting there. Not in an inconspicuous brown box. But the box that it comes in.
I know what I'm getting now.
Drats.
