I realized today that Penelope might not actually be human. I think her grandma may have been half-platypus, or something, because Penelope possesses one very importantly inhuman trait: she hates surprises.
Oh, she loves presents, and parties, and gifts, and adventures. But you’d damn well tell her what it is ahead of time.
That’s why I’m partially so excited about having a blog to where I can announce “hay y’all, I got a surprise for her today!” without having to say it directly to her, that way I can avoid potential retribution. You see, one day, I bought Penelope a present, and didn’t disclose its contents. She decided to get me a surprise too. That surprise was a half-full bucket of fermenting apple cider and pulp. In my bed. (to be fair, I noticed it before I knocked it over.)
Unfortunately, this may partially be my fault; you see, I’m worried that in her mind, “surprise” may correlate with “prank”, at least to some degree. For instance, the last present I bought her was for Christmas, while she was out of town. I went to the restaurant supply store and bought a fabulous (heavy!) 20 quart stock pot, to honor our agreement that we’d only buy gifts for the house. I wrapped it, and put it under the tree.
Except I may have happened to grab a dozen or more other boxes from around the house and wrap those too. There were two actual presents in that pile, the pot and the lid for that pot. This is partially in retaliation for last year, when I got a bunch of small things, put them in a box, and numbered them 1-6, but skipped a number in between. She didn’t even look at the numbers, and didn’t even catch the joke. This year, I had to really go all out.
Here’s a video, as well.
So, you can see that at least she took THIS one in stride. Maybe it reminded her of her mother.