I have this hope chest that my greatgrandfather made for my greatgrandmother.
I am so fond of it, that my husband often questions whether or not it was carved from the Ark of the Covenant or the One True Cross or what-have-you.
It sits at the foot of my bed, the way a hope chest should.
Last night, in my typical absent minded hurry of putting my kids to bed I went past it, ran into it (as always) and JAMMED a piece of splinter the size of a palm tree into the back of my leg.
Okay, it wasn't the size of a palm tree.
It was THIS size.
Now, imagine that you have to PULL most of that out of the soft, tender, fat part of your thigh (okay I don't have a THIN part of my thigh - leave me alone.)
Got the Willies yet?
Here, to make the shuddering stop, here is a cute picture of the Baby Birth of Cool who fell asleep watching Zoboomafoo.
Your heebeejeebies should be all better now!