
...because it happens every year about this time.
No, we don't collect penguins, or snowflakes or even angels or shepherds or sheep, but at some point in our history as a family (maybe it was the year Dairy Queen gave beany bag reindeer with kids meals) we started collecting four-footed, prancing, pawing, caribou. Of course, personalities being the way they are, my husband, Turtle, contracted an obsession for them. So, every year the red, plastic vat in the attic comes bumping and thumping its way down dusty stairs and my living room is infested with silly, sleigh-pullers. . . and every year, another one pokes its silly little snout out from between the others. It's a tradition I tolerate, at best. The latest one is particularly goofy looking. (He's the last one in the video)
Oh well, at least I don't have a fat, jolly, white-bearded man in a red suit booming loudly in the darkness behind them. Oh wait...I do. Now maybe that's why he...hmmm.
Our Sunday Scribblings Prompt was "I Knew Instantly"