To Serve as Substitute

About two months ago, John mysteriously drove Somewhere and returned with a sagging shopping bag. He then requested wrapping paper before locking himself in our bedroom for an hour. The end result was a pile of presents, numbered for the days he'd be gone, to be opened only on the appropriate day. He's unsurpassed at creating and seeing adventure, but he's lousy at keeping secrets like this secret, so I was impressed that he didn't spill the beans about even one of the presents before he left. (This may be because I stuffed them in the closet, and he wasn't reminded of them.) All the presents have been wonderful, from the Wallace and Gromit dvd (with a baggie full o' popcorn kernals to pop!) to the plastic Worf figurine to the sparkling grape juice with tacky, plastic glasses, but my favorite part has been the notes that accompany these gifts. Seven years ago, he won me with words, using them to unfold my heart and his, and though I don't like separation, I love the words he's left behind for company.

In the note, he instructed the girls that this particular gift was to be used for Fancy Sweets, and that they were to tell me so. So, here are Fancy Sweets (I had no energy to make Turkish Delight).




And underneath the Fancy Sweets? (The girl's thought bubble, "He's thinking about board games...")




The note wrapped in with this wooden girl was the shortest note of all; it wasn't a note so much as something to make me laugh, but when I tried to explain the joke to the girls, they didn't laugh like I did.


The wooden box present propping up the joke contains true words, and I'm sappy enough to read them every night before bed, though not naked enough to share them here. And we still have tonight's and tomorrow's gift left! So, dear readers, though some may be dull or strange, don't warn your daughters to stay away from board game geeks. The only one I've ever loved is top-notch.