Humor | Satire

How My Kid Thinks Ordering a Package Works

Ah, the magic of mail!

Designed in Canva by the author

I’ve told my mother I need a birthday present for my friend. Surely, in the minute that followed, she ordered one. It’s not like she had anything else to do, like make me dinner, help me with my homework, or tell me to pick up my wet towel again.

Once the present is ordered, a group of happy workers will no doubt rejoice. “Yay,” they’ll say. “I was hoping this kid would order a present today. We were getting bored sitting around waiting in these luxurious conditions, which include free ice cream, a bacon bar, and the promise of generous maternity leave.”

Even though I’m 8 and have seen a mail truck, I’m pretty sure that once the workers find the present, it will be here in about thirty minutes, carried by the wind in a bubble propelled by the strongest kid at my elementary school.

If I thought the mail worked differently, I might have warned my mother that it was my friend’s birthday tomorrow. But, nope, she doesn’t need a few days, not when mail is basically magic and that kid at my school can do three pull-ups if his feet are on the ground.

I sure am a great friend for being so on top of getting him a present. It doesn’t matter that he’ll have no interest in this particular item because I’m the one who actually wants it. You know what they say: “It’s the thought that counts, even if it’s me thinking about what I want and not my friend.”

Of course, I can speed up the present’s delivery by asking my mom whether or not it’s here. Every time I do that, the wind actually goes faster, so I better ask her 3–7 times, increasing the volume of my voice each time.

Even better, I’ll ask her where exactly the present is. There is a tracker that can determine the precise location of the present. It sends a special signal from the present to my mom’s phone through little red fairy creatures who fight demons and have their own band. The details aren’t important. I just have to ask my mom to check it. She won’t let me look up the location myself after I Googled “Big Packages Here.”

It’s been five minutes. So, I'd better tell my mom to check that tracker again. It will no doubt say something different now.

Once the present is nearby, hovering above my house, the mailman will get into position. He lives nearby and gets paid a nice salary to stand guard, in case he has to catch one of my family’s packages in his magical shorts. The mail system sure works well, with no obvious issues like human error, theft, or unfair working conditions.

After he gently sets the present on my doorstep, he’ll ring the doorbell. I’d go out and get it, but my mom likes bending down to pick up my stuff over and over throughout the day. That’s why she does it so much.

I might even forget about the present entirely once it’s here, even though I’ve been pestering my mom about it all day. That’s part of the process.

Besides, I think my friend’s birthday is actually next month.