On Sunday morning we tore down the hall, envisioning the presents we will shortly be opening.
The door to the living room was closed and locked, and we had to wait agonizing seconds, staring at our presents through the glass, while my dad found the key and unlocked the doors. Soon, wrapping strewed the floor and we were working away at our new trinkets' packaging. A few hours later we sat down to a breakfast of hot, steaming pancakes right before church.
After church, we read and drew and played with our new thingamabobs until our dinner, pork and potatoes and salad and fizzing black currant juice, was finished. It was delicious.
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