I had my just-a-bit-late birthday with CD and the kids. We ate homemade caramels that they all think were a birthday gift from my parents but really I've been nibbling on since before Christmas. (I didn't exactly plan to keep them a secret, but dang they're good.) Among other lovely gifts was a gift from Bug, who was grinning ear to ear with excitement. It was a sheet of My Very Own Bubble Wrap.
He had apparently had the idea for weeks and couldn't wait to give it to me. I think I'm allowed to decide how to pop it any way I choose, but actually both boys have helped out already.
I was always a one-bubble-at-a-time popper until Pook introduced me to the twist-the-plastic-and-it-sounds-like-fireworks method. Once the boys had a chance to jump on some, outdoors. That was pretty good too. But deep down I'm still a one-bubble-at-a-time popper.
Why did he decide to give me bubble wrap for my birthday? I don't know. I haven't asked. Maybe in a few days. I don't want to pop his bubble by implying that I think it was an "interesting" gift.