On the first day of Christmas teh fluffeh gave to me:
A false sense of security.
On the second day of Christmas teh fluffeh gave to me:
One smashed glass ornament in shards on the living room floor.
On the third day of Christmas teh fluffeh gave to me:
Another smashed glass ornament in shards on the living room floor.
On the fourth day of Christmas teh fluffeh gave to me:
One more smashed glass ornament in shards on the living room floor.
On the fifth day of Christmas teh fluffeh gave to me:
One miraculously whole glass ornament wedged under the love seat.
On the sixth day of Christmas teh fluffeh gave to me:
One smashed glass ornament in shards under the love seat
and a miraculously whole glass ornament on the living room floor.
On the seventh day of Christmas teh fluffeh gave to me:
Nothing, ’cos I was home to supervise the little bugger!
On the eighth day of Christmas teh fluffeh gave to me:
Nothing, ’cos I was home to supervise the little bugger!
On the ninth day of Christmas teh fluffeh gave to me:
Three smashed glass ornaments in shards
and the entire Christmas tree lying on the living room floor.
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I shouldn't laugh, I know how exasperating the little bastards can be.
Oh, and the tree at Mom's was, and probably still is, secured to the walls with hooks and rope.
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