Ok every year for the past dozen we've had kids, I've done the wrapping (and the choosing and the buying obvs). My family, his family, stockings, and this year is no exception.
(The poor martyr does manage to wrap what he gives me though - exhausting, I know)
Tonight we sat down to wrap the stockings - brown paper, crap wrapping's fine: not too taxing- and he proved himself unable to share the sellotape. It has to be near him as he needed it all the time.
Ditto the scissors.
He wrapped in a very loud, self-conscious, heroic way. This being the first time he has wrapped anything other than the odd thing he gives me, it must be a real challenge and perhaps I am not recognising his genius at rising to the occasion.
On the 15th attempt to reach for the sellotape, as he sighed at my annoyingness, I said ok, you're the wrapping king. You do it all.
(Three fucking stockings worth)
Now he is wrapping SO loudly, with SO many martyred sighs, I just want to kill him. But to rile him even further, I am lying in our bed in full relaxation mode, reading MN on my phone to signify that fact and to fuck him off.
AIBU?