Heard while upstairs this morning...
"Mommy!!! Nate has the nutcracker ornament down his pants!!!"
Wrong on so many, many levels.
My poor tree is under constant surveillance seeing as how Dan has already fallen in in TWICE, broken one ornament, and keeps trying to take bites out of another (it's an apple, he refuses to accept that it's not real).
Last night two of the shrubs outside decided to allow their lights to die out prematurely, scrooges!
I caught Nate and Dan pretending to assassinate the residents of my manger scene with storm troopers this morning. I gasp in horror.
Someone who shall remain nameless used my pretty snowman hand towel to clean up tinkle puddles on the toilet seat.
Last but not least, I melted a battery pack on my little light up mantle trees with a candle. The scent of scorching plastic is finally out of my house, but the memory of almost burning down my house in the name of a little holiday cheer will live on through the ages.
Merry Christmas to all!