The year DS was three, about four days before Christmas, I thought it would be so much easier to un-box all the toys and put batteries in everything before I wrapped them up. Proud of the completed job, I duly hid the presents but accidentally left all the cardboard packaging in a black bin bag by the back door.
DS had recently transferred from cot to bed, and still enjoyed the novelty of being able to go downstairs, but the morning in question, we hadn't heard him. (Probably exhausted from the late night wrapping sesh!)
Anyway, he found what must have looked like Santa's sack..... full of empty boxes! He emptied the whole thing all over the floor and by the time we came downstairs, it was everywhere as he desperately tried to find a single toy!
The look of confusion and desperation on his face was probably matched by the look of horror on ours!
Thought bubbles went something like this...
DS: Where are my presents?
Us: What the fuck?
DS: Why did Santa leave me empty boxes?
Us: How the fuck do we explain this?
DS: Do I just get the boxes this year?
Us: Have we just fucking ruined the magic of Christmas?
We exhausted ourselves with busyness and distraction all day in the hope he'd forget about it. On Christmas Day when he recognised some of the presents from the rubbish, I muttered something about the elves (this was pre elf on the shelf) doing some wrapping at our house while they were checking on him!
No lasting damage was done! 