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Mr. Johns didn’t grow up in North America; he grew up in central Africa where Christmas isn’t a big thing. When he married me, he didn’t do it for logical, well-thought-out reasons. He went on heart, a little nervous about what life with this North American would look like, but he loved me too much to pass up the chance.

So on our first Christmas where I was wrapping presents, I finished up a roll of wrapping paper, and then joyfully bonked him on the head with the tube. He looked at me in abject horror. In his mind, his beloved wife had just struck him.

Me: It’s a thing! I swear! When you finish up a roll, you bonk someone on the head with it. Here–do it to me.

Him (horrified) : No!

I still laugh when I remember it, and I’ve had to show him this meme to convince him that other people than me celebrate Christmas with the hallowed tradition of head bonking.

He’s loosened up considerably, now. Ten years with the likes of me will do that to you. 😉 He hasn’t yet bonked me on the head with a wrapping paper tube… but I’m holding out hope.

All I want for Christmas is a sincere head bonk.

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