The morning in which I awaken is one covered with snow, bombarded with family, and permeated by the smell of breakfast. As I march downstairs, parading my victory composed of soon to be gifts that will at my disposal, I have vague sense of what I shall soon claim.
“Max, we’re hungry, get your butt down here so that we can open our presents and eat!” As I begin to sit on the floor, I get a crackling blast of incomprehensible babble screamed into my ear that is soon exploding on my eardrum. I figured that it mean that I should just open my present from my cousins, and let me tell you I was excited to do so. However, in this society, preconceived notions held by my cousins can turn into what they then morph into facts – even if that false thought-to-be fact is based on a comment that I said regarding the stapler. Guess what I got for Christmas from them…
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