Despite a headache she soldiered on...the costumes were good...the moms had paid attention to the newsletter.The children were well... she couldn't expect more, at least they were older. Replayed the song when a crash was heard, frightened cries, then giggles. "The white-bearded fat man rolled through the church doors..." easily, as it was all cardboard...worse, he began to sob loudly, struggling to get up. She loosened his robe and pulled out a pillow almost his height...She angrily asked “who's in charge of Jingle bells? Your Santa is here”...the new recruit rushed over, flustered. “Get a cushion for the show” to her, gently, reattaching the three year old's beard.
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Glad you made it this far...would love to hear your take on the words scribbled. A comment every now and then keeps the blues away. :D
Since, crazy Mr. Blogspot won't let me reply to the comments here (is upset with the water ladies ever since they refused to verify visitors)...will do the next best thing, drop in to your blog to say my Vanakkam/Namaste/Salaam/Hello.