Hell of My Own Making

A few days ago, we arrived home to find a large package from California on the front porch. We brought it inside and opened it up to set the presents under the tree. One of the presents is a fetching little silver box. JT was intrigued by what he called the "fancy package."

But the tag says it's for his Mama and I recommended a hands-off policy.

"Who is it from?" he asked.

"It's from Auntie KO," I told him.

He nodded his head knowingly and announced, "she told me what it is."

"Oh yeah?" I said.

"Yes," he confirmed. "In the box are six little buttons and when you open the box, each of them will grow into a little boy just like me. They will be loud and they will jump around."

Then he delivered the piece de resistance. "They will talk all the time," my chatty boy informed me.

"Thanks for telling me," I said. "Now I won't open the box."

'You have to," he said. "For each day you wait, another little boy will appear."

The bad news delivered, JT spent the rest of the evening explaining to me that soon I'll need to make supper for seven little boys and then all seven will need washing. They will all need a bed and clean pajamas. Things are going to get pretty busy around my house.

My sister has some explaining to do.