Posts Tagged With: wrapping paper

Thing 1 sent me a message yesterday in the late afternoon: So, I totally didn’t inherit your wrapping ability.

This made me giggle.
It’s true that I have exceptional gift wrapping abilities.

I suggested it was because she didn’t have as many years of practice as I have.
She has fine motor dyspraxia. A condition that has plagued her all her life. I reminded her of this, and assured her that it’s not an excuse, but it can certainly contribute to having trouble.

She told me that she would wrap a gift beautifully and feel like she’s getting the hang of it, but then the next one would look as though a two year old wrapped it.

I think she needs practice. I offered to help her.
To which she replied the most Thing 1 thing: You must verse me in the ways of the present wrapping, oh mighty queen of the world.

Then she sent me a photo.

I think they look pretty decent. No, they’re not up to my wrapping standards…but that doesn’t make a bit of difference. I absolutely love that Tiffany blue paper with the white swirls!

I feel the same way about wrapping gifts that I feel about folding laundry. I love it! Everything about it. The orderly-ness of folding and stacking. Getting the seams folded just right and taped up. Then bows and ribbons to make it froufy.
I’m thrilled to help her learn to make fancy pressies! Moms should always attempt to pass their skills along.
I don’t know that I’m especially good at it for any reason other than my love of the process.

Here’s a sample from under our tree.

Does practice make perfect? Not always, there are times when I see a gift I wrapped and cringe. Then there are times when I’d like to start a museum for beautifully wrapped gifts.
I’m not sure it matters who wraps the prettiest gifts.
I don’t think N cares that Thing 1 may have wrapped his gifts a little wonkily.
I don’t think anybody I gift cares how much work I put into making their packages pretty.
I encourage the ripping of paper as gifts are being opened.
It all ends up going out with the recycling in the end.

And here’s a truth, that girl can out bake me eight times out of ten. Perhaps we’re just skilled at what we’re skilled at? Or are we simply better at doing the things we love?
Doesn’t matter.
I’ll wrap.
She can bake.
And that way, everybody ends up happy.