Christmas Box

I don't know what's inside. Which creates a little suspense and fun, since I LOVE surprises. At the same time, seeing this monstrosity in the spare room every time I walk past might drive me crazy before Christmas gets here. It arrived on our doorstep last week. It weighs more than our discussed budget should weigh, so does that give me justification to spend more on him (like I so very much want?). While I was running errands, he opened the box to check contents. You can see from his taping job that the same insight isn't allowed for me. I tease him occasionally by asking him what he would do if I looked inside. But I think we both know how much I love surprises, tortuous as they can sometimes be. I wouldn't dream of looking and risk spoiling the present he wants me to have for Christmas. But you see that smile on the box? The one that Amazon puts there intentionally to slap me in the face at least a hundred times a day? It has started to taunt me..."Micah. Miiiiiiicah. Open me, Micah. You know you want to see what's inside of me. Just open me and get it over with." How much longer can I resist such sane invitations?

This has nothing to do with my ability to hear what I want, when I want. And the smile on my face matches the size of the smile on the box. I don't mind a little taunting now and then.