Don't look!

When my brother and I were little, it seemed our banishment from the bathroom in my parents’ bedroom always came at the same time of the year – a few months before Christmas. If, in a dire emergency we were allowed to use their bathroom because the main one was occupied, it always came with the stern warning not to look under the blanketed pile in the corner.

I never did. But that was because I was more interested in the makeup my mother kept under the vanity than a desire to obey orders. I still don’t know what was under those blankets – or in later years, in a covered pile behind their bed – but I’m guessing it was our Christmas gifts.

I thought of that this week as I was trying to find a hiding place for Ladybug’s Christmas gifts. It’s not like she knows who Santa Claus is and would be puzzled to find the same gifts from Father Christmas under the tree that Mommy and Daddy had bought and stacked in a pile in plain view in the exercise room. And really, would she even remember?

But on this one, I’d prefer to give her the benefit of the doubt. She catches me off guard with some eerily advanced actions sometimes – like saying “bless you” when I sneezed in Wal-Mart the other day – and I’m not so sure she wouldn’t put two and two together on the Christmas gifts.

So, for the time being, she’s not allowed to go in the exercise room. Until I can find a better hiding place, maybe I’ll just throw a blanket over the pile of toys in the corner and hope curiosity doesn’t get the better of her.

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