I’m thinking that taking down the Christmas tree is a viable option to remedy the latest discord around here. The frosted icicle ornaments have become tools for jabbing the television. When I confront the culprit, I get a look that indicates I have 3 heads. At least 3.
Libby remains unfazed. She could care less about the TV (she’s not a fan of Pocoyo anyway) or the Christmas tree. She prefers to warm herself in rays of sun that filter through the windows and onto her favorite spots and rolls with the flow so long as that part of her world is intact.