That's what happened to me this morning. About a week or so ago Dave and I had to keep telling, and telling, and telling our little guy to "STOP BOUNCING THAT BOUNCY BALL IN THE HOUSE!!!" about a thousand times. The kid is solidly unable to stop once he starts. And this has put bouncy balls in the "Most Annoying Toy Ever" category at our house.
Anyway, Dave and the kid were wrestling on our bed over who would keep the ball. Dave got it, subtly passed it to me, and lacking anywhere else to put it, I casually dropped it into one of the cowgirl boots that reside by my bed. And then I forgot all about it.
Until this morning...when I grabbed those boots, took them to the living room, reached in each of them to make sure my supports were in the right spot (Hey, I have old lady feet and those feet want their creature comforts!), and my finger hit something entirely unexpected. I yanked my hand outa there lickety split, clearly avoiding retouching the biggest cockroach that ever lived, and tipped my boot, thus sending the ball bouncing once again.
And then I hid it in a better spot.
P.S. The picture below is not a reflection of how I felt...it's how the ball felt! I'm just playing with some different emotions in my art. Me? I'm happy, happy. That ball is hidden great!
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