"What?" I yelled in his ear.
"Get this brlllgghghhkt off my braydghffflces!!!".
The offending blanket,
in its more benign days.
I told him that if he insisted on catching blankets with his braces, he'd have to eventually get some kind of hunting or fishing license--and that he'd have to gut it and clean it all by himself. No more help from me!
2004 is almost gone. But among many more important and profound events of the year, we'll always smile about "The Day of the Blanket Attack". In light of the things that others are going through, may all our new problems be so small and solvable in 2005. Yours, too.
Happy New Year