Revenge of the Christmas Presents

Not our tree but pretty right?

On Christmas Eve, “Santa” carefully arranged the presents under the tree so my kids would come running downstairs and be amazed at their good fortune of being in such a great family, and pledge their undying devotion (even when they become teenagers), and offer to do chores all day, every day never expecting anything in return except a roof over their heads.

Have you ever noticed how things never seem to work out exactly like they should?

It has been less than a month since the toys were assembled but there is something strange going on.

If you have ever seen Toy Story, you are well aware of the fact that toys have feelings too and that they love their owners unless they are lit on fire or had their heads taken off. I’ve got to admit that some of the heads have left bodies already, but thankfully we were able to re-attach.

Anyway, I think the toys really do love the kids. I know the kids love them (for the most part). The scary thing is that I don’t think the toys like me very much. You know that part in Toy Story where Woody’s head spins around like the exorcist and he scares the torturer Sid? Well, thankfully none of the heads have started spinning, but the toys do seem to be out for revenge.

Somehow they are sneaking into every room of the house and throwing themselves into the path of any bare foot that walks by. You would think that they wouldn’t want to get stepped on, but these things are suicidal. They are also appearing in very inappropriate places like my bed, or the bathtub. Another weird thing is that they play this “hide and seek” game whenever my youngest is having a meltdown looking for the one she just remembered she had. I would apologize if I knew what I had done to make them so angry.

Maybe it was when I accidentally ran over one with the wheelchair. I fixed it a few days later, but I guess they hold a grudge. Maybe I wrapped them too tight, or put them a little too close to a Christmas tree light and softened their plastic. I wonder if when purchasing the toys I accidentally separated family members.

Whatever I have done. I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you toys. I love you. Please don’t come after me with a knife like Chucky. I promise I’ll take care of you.

Oh no…one is on the desk by the computer…it is looking at me funny…if I don’t return tell the police the toys did it…there’s another one…help me!!!


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