“It’s just too much! Calm down!”, I shouted with an exasperated smile. My 2 boys sprawled over my head with their tiny bodies as I sat helplessly on the floor beneath them. They were so excited to open the big cardboard box my husband neatly tied and placed in the living room with a bright red ribbon. As if rehearsed, the house filled with dramatic appeals. “Mummy, what is that?”, ”What’s in the box”, “Can we open it?” “Mummy, are you listening to me?!”. Priceless is the simple one-word loop of “mommy” at varied decibels of desperation, they expertly began a chant “…Mommy, mummy! Mumumum-mumumum-mommy!” “Ok, ok” let’s check it out. “Yaaaay”, they lauded, hopping up and down with applause. Proud that they had worn me down and they’d successfully won their way. “What little narcissists you are!” I exclaimed with a grin. Impatiently, they scurried to the box with indistinct chatter about the contents, adherent to my stern no-touch warning. Kneeling and sporadic hopping up continued until I brought the scissors from the kitchen drawer. They offered to help but I refused them, causing frowns of upset as the boys grew further impatient. They grew stiff and still with anticipation, and as if the air was sucked out of the room, the chatter reduced to uncontrollable squeaks. Suddenly, the swift sound of my scissors zinged through the air, followed by, “I gat it!!!!” My little ninjas pounced and fought for the title of the swiftest as they clumsily removed the sidings surrounding the gift. When the dust settled, they remembered the true prize that laid inside… the gift. “The present!” they chorused”. Eyes growing wild with bewilderment, they paused as they took in the sight of the coveted item. “Wow” said the seven-year old and the three-year old proclaimed “Beautiful!” In all their anxiety, they failed to successfully peak through the tiny holes in the box or acknowledge the smell of fur that filled the room. Curled in a circular formation in the travel cage was the cutest ball of light brown and white fur. The most darling puppy purred and shivered at the cool air once the box was removed. “A puppy, a puppy,” they excitedly whispered as loudly as they could while patting and tugging at me. “Ok, ok, lest stay calm so we don’t scare her” I replied. “It’s a him…” the sharp correction came zinging through. “Mhmm,” I replied, not taking it on. “Who’d like to hold him… er her?” I asked they enamoured pair. “Me”, “No, me first!” “No, ME first!”, they blurted out. “Ok, ok, great!, I replied”. I grabbed the cloth and lifted the 7lb pup out of the cage and into the laps of both boys equally to their delight. They petted they pup nose to tail and rotated for equilibrium. I went on to explain that the dog was a rescued pup and the huge responsibility we’d take in by keeping it. There was uncontested, swift and full agreement to the chore list that when translated really meant the work and responsibility to remember was still with me and dad. However, the joy that beamed from their eyes and the energy that newfound love brought to the room was priceless! The puppy who was breathing swiftly and who’s heart before raced seemed to find a calm amidst the massages, kisses and hugs of these little boys. He finally opened his eyes to peak at who was providing such love and licked the fingers of one then the other. I had thought the gift was the pup to the boys but there was actually also a gift to the pup - a loving family and a new home.