With Santa on his way, I cannot stress the importance of not
being fresh. Unless you don’t care about getting coal or half of last year’s
chewed rawhide in your stocking. Then by all means, let nice make way for
naughty.
But if you’re like me, and you’re hoping for one of these bad boys under the tree, then you
will do your best to at least pretend
you’re a good puppy (temporarily of course-no need to reinvent the wheel). Here’s
the thing: sometimes I just get a bee in my bum. Sometimes I cannot resist the urge
and I NEED to be fresh. It’s freeing, folks. It’s cathartic. And it
feels. so.good.
Now, lest you think these little incidents are without
consequence, allow me to present to you Exhibit A:
Here I am after my parents came home from dinner the other
night, only to discover I’d gotten up on the counter, filched a bag of garlic
bread, and eaten the entire top loaf. First there was a lot of pointing at the
half-eaten little taste of heaven and yelling at what I consider to be completely
unnecessary decibels, “No Sage! NOOOOOOOO SAAAYAAAAGE!!!!” This was followed by
a short stint in the corner.
My grandmother says that when my mom was little and being
punished in the corner, she would check every 5 minutes to see if she could
come out now.
The apple sure didn’t fall far from THAT tree!
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