How do you wrap a unicorn?
You there. The large, hairy dude eating a banana. Any way you want? I'm sorry. That is not the correct answer. I'm going out on a limb here, but I suspect that you sleep anywhere you want. Is that right? Thought so. I'm psychic like that.
The one in the back. Eating a towering bowl of soup. In bacon, you say? I'm sorry. That is not correct. PETA called. They want your head on a platter.
You, ma'am. With a toddler on each hip, eating Cheerios fed to her one at a time by sticky little fingers. Late Christmas Eve, after eating four Oreos and drinking half a cup of milk? I'm sorry that is not the correct answer. No ma'am. Not even if that's the only time you can find to do it. Please don't cry.
The answer, dear readers, to the question, "How do you wrap a unicorn?" is: THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS A FREAKIN' UNICORN!!! You might as well try to wrap a moonbeam. A cloud. A flibbertigibbet. A will-o-the-wisp. A clown. You might as well try to solve a problem like Maria, you do-gooders, you!
That's the problem I'm faced with this Christmas. Not do-gooding. Aw, HECK no! Trying to wrap something that doesn't exist.
The #1 son has asked for a pair of track pants that are not fleeced. Just the smooth polyester kind. Perfectly do-able. Until you hear the other specification. With a butt pocket on the left. ON THE LEFT! They don't exist. Unless they're the preferred trousers of unicorns in Shangri-La. Nobody wants a butt pocket on the left except the ten percent of the population that is left-handed. And the women lefties surely don't want men's track pants. So we're looking at a product that can be marketed to roughly five percent of the world population. And I'm pretty sure many corners of the world are happily ignorant of track pants. The boy might as well ask for a $221,080 education from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
Sweet Gummi Mary! There has to be a way to turn this closed door into an open window.