25 Days of Christmas Blogging
There are many reasons I'd make a terrible basketball player: I am short, I can't dribble, I like to throw elbows when people try to take my stuff. I'm playing with this ball now. You can have a turn in a minute. It's called sharing.
If you ask me, the entire sport is sending the wrong message to kids. That guy has what you want? Well, just go take it from him.
On second thought, that sounds exactly like something I'd be in to.
Last night, while I was waiting for the hot glue gun to heat up (you will recall, we were making our tacky sweaters) I decided to clean up the felt scraps.
Hot glue gun? Felt scraps? You know it's going to be a good sweater.
Typically, when I make a mess I wait three years to clean it up. Since there wasn't enough time to throw a parade together in celebration of my magnanimous deed, I decided I was deserving of three Christmas cookies. After all, I was tidying up when I wasn't even finished with my project. I gathered the scraps and what happened next is Supreme Reason Numero Uno as to why I should never play basketball. Nor clean, apparently.
I left the mess right where it was and ate four cookies for my troubles.