It was exhausting (watching Henry) wrapping all those presents. We were up most of the night on Christmas Eve getting shit done. I collapsed on the couch pretty early on.
“What are you doing?!” Henry yelled, breaking a sweat in his attempt to wrap a large open-front trapezoid box.
“Taking a break,” I answered in my teenager-approved “duh” tone.
“After wrapping TWO presents?”
Hey, those cat treats were a bitch to wrap, OK?
Speaking of which, Henry only bought two packs of cat treats when we have FOUR cats!
“Now two of them are going to be left wondering what they did to make Santa diss them,” I whined, considering all the possibilities. Now they’ll DEFINITELY pillage my body if I die in the house.
“Don and Willie don’t even eat cat treats! They just stare at them!” Henry argued.
Yeah, well guess who the first one was to eat some after I helped Marcy open her present? DON.
And then Marcy was like, “This is some fucked up Christmas bullshit that I have to SHARE my motherfucking holiday cat treats” and Christmas was pretty much ruined after that. What a fucking disaster; thanks a lot Henry.
(My next post will be about my fantastic Christmas Eve and the incredible secret I learned about Henry, straight from his mom’s lips!)