The world can be divided into two categories of people, the peekers and the non-peekers. There really is no middle ground. Either you scour the house for any trace of a potential gift, carefully undo the wrapping to sneak a preview peek at what will be bestowed upon you at the time of whatever celebration is coming up, or you resist all temptation and unwrap gifts at the appropriate time.
I am a peeker. I cannot stand knowing that a gift for me is hiding somewhere and not knowing what’s under the pretty paper. Can’t hack it. I have always been a peeker, and much to M’s annoyance, I will always be a peeker.
M is not a peeker. His birthday present sat, in a shopping bag, in plain sight on the dining room table for a full week, and I know for a fact that he never, not once, took a look in the bag.
With one parent in each camp C and Little L have a 50/50 chance of being peekers, though as the following exchange illustrates, it seems as though the die has been cast for C.
“Mommy! Mommy! There’s a new box!”
“I know, it came the other day. Don’t touch it. I don’t want you to see what’s in there.”
“Mommy! We have to open the box! It has a really cool toy inside!”
“How do you know there’s a cool toy in there? Did you open the box.”
“Are you sure?”
“I didn’t open the box! But we have to open it! It has a really cool toy inside!”
As a peeker I feel nothing but joy in knowing that my baby is in my camp. But I think we might need to work on her sneaking skills.