This morning my husband came in and lay beside me on the bed. "I have a confession to make," he said.
"What's that," I asked, still half asleep.
"You know that little fireman you got me that Dee made a long time ago? I broke him."
I was quiet for a moment. "When did you break him?"
"Sometime ago when I was cleaning the shelves for you, when you were really sick."
He had hidden him on a high shelf behind the TV speaker, turning him sort of butt out so I wouldn't notice the little guy was broken. And were it not for the fact that I plan to clean those shelves thoroughly today, dear husband might have gotten away with it for quite some time.
|My little guy, still whole (a 2013 photo).|
|Now he has a concussion.|
|Not to mention, a broken helmet.|
|Here he is with a few tiny pieces (that were stuck inside|
of him and I didn't see them until I took the above photo).