Feb 19, 2015

One Decade Down, God Knows How Many To Go

I had ever such a cunning and cruel wheeze planned for Eloise's birthday, basically because I'm an emotionally bankrupt control-freak bastard who just wants to make everyone else's life shitty in order to garner short-term gratuitous kicks at the expense of everyone I am supposed to hold dear.

But enough about me. Oh no, hang on, not enough about me.

I spent literally minutes (an unspecified number of) buying presents for young Eloise, Lego-this, Ice-that, Book-the-other, and what with that awemazing bike she got for Christmas, and us telling her that could double up for her birthday, considering its awemazingness, and that big pile of internationally-shipped parcels sitting on the table whispering "Open me, now, don't wait until my birthday," a sibilantly tempting siren-call to the weak-hearted, I thought some of my efforts might be highlighted if I hid the good presents and put the crap one on the pile.

So, expecting temporary disappointment at the opening of the clarinet-cleaning cloth, to be closely followed by delight at the opening of the magically produced Lego, my plot was hatched.

Eloise foiled it at the first step as she was completely delighted by the clarinet-cleaning cloth, which rather took the wind out of my sails.

Still all the books, dresses, crossbows, lego, etc, all went down very well.

We ate Mexican in the evening, where the remaining presents were opened. The only fly in the ointment was when I trapped Eloise's fingers in her electric window. But she'll live.

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