Ethan wants a trampoline for his birthday and he's convinced it's going to happen.
He's gone to bed tonight expecting that tomorrow it will have arrived.
He's right. Which is irritating in a way.
He hasn't seen it delivered and me lugging the 93 kilos into the garage.
He hasn't seen Dave and I spending three hours this evening assembling the stupid thing.
He just has faith that his mum and dad will deliver. It is this that allows me to forgive the irritation.
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