Yes, I Threw It Away

Some of you may not have read my old posts about my former foster daughter Margo, but all you need to know for now is that she lives in our old house with her four -- count 'em, FOUR -- children. The eldest (11), I fondly refer to as the Demon Spawn, and his younger sister (7) is his Young Apprentice. When we moved out of the old house two years ago, we had to leave some of our stuff because there just wasn't room for it in Mr Robin's grandma's house (which we lived in until this new house was completed). One of the things we had to do without was our Christmas tree, which I'd bought on clearance less than a year earlier. There was no place to store it, no place to put it up.



Mr Robin went over yesterday to get the tree so we could put it up today, for the very first time. It arrived all stuffed into a carseat box. The Demon Spawn had taken it upon himself to open it sometime during the last couple of years and assemble it in his bedroom. Then he'd decorated it with all our decorations, none of which arrived with the tree.



When we started to unpack it, we noticed it stunk to high heaven (like her house), and gradually I began to notice that my hands were getting very sticky. UGH. We had just gotten all the various branches sorted into piles when I pulled out the big, bushy top to the tree...



And found it decorated with old moldy Mini Wheats...and cat shit.





I must have missed those verses in the Twelve Days of Christmas...