It's a rare kiddo-free day. Obviously with such an opportunity, The Man and I can't help ourselves but choose to spend it romantically fighting through the Christmas crowds of Croydon!
That's right, holding hands and sharing some Christmas cheer is well and truly off the cards. Instead, I'm spending the day ignoring his disdain for other shoppers and pretty much anything Christmas-related.
Dodging other festive folk, I spot The Man's dream gift. A box of pants gently wrapped in scented tissue. Oh yeah. Glancing to the side, I see him eyeballing a pushchair that has just clipped his leg. It's now or never. Mission Purchase Pants must begin.
I wail I need to try something on. A foolproof decoy. The Man steers well clear of any changing room antics, generally due to the risk of being asked to comment on the size of my bottom. Dangerous territory for any man. This is his cue to go to do something blokey… like play with his phone in a corner.
I pick up a disgusting lycra-type dress, small enough to fit a hungry child. The Man has taken the bait and is engrossed in one of his apps. I snap up the pants, pausing momentarily to check the size and price.
We are good to go! I slide the gift to the sales assistant gesturing with weird hand movements in the direction of The Man. She gets the gist and offers me the card reader. Bingo. Bag in hand, mission almost complete. I glide up as slowly as I can, so as not to distract husband and hastily add my bag to the others.
The dress must have suited me as I look so pleased, he says. I shrug and say it's a bit too pricey and offer to buy him a snack as a distraction. All is well.
Once home I scuttle to the bedroom to hide my sneaky purchases. I am surprised to see one of my bags has already found its way under the bed. I'm sure no one else would think of such a top secret hiding spot?
Opening the bag, I get the shock of my life. There lies the lycra dress I had no chance of fitting into. Not only has The Man managed to gift me under my nose but he has claimed the best hiding place in the house.
Ultimate fail. Thank God for gift receipts.
