Christmas Stories from the Plains

My kids are criminal masterminds. Seriously, prison gang members would be impressed with their ingenuity.
My nearly two-year-old shanked his older brother in the eye with an oddly sharpened dog bone today.

Apparently, my nearly four-year-old is working toward a career in smuggling. On the way to bed we noticed he was scratching at his bottom. I assumed he just needed to clean up a bit. As we entered the bathroom he said, "Something's in there, Da-Da." I nervously helped him pull his drawers down only to find a foil-wrapped Christmas chocolate resting in the crotch of his X-Men underpants. Santa's shaking jelly-belly was a schoolgirl's giggle compared to our uproarious laughter.