you're all dressed up for a big day at work, new suit and expensive hose,
and on the way out the door, your youngest fur-baby leaps 3-feet in the air,
lands at the top of your leg and slides all the way down, leaving twin runs
the width of the Mississippi River.  You grab your baby, rain kisses all
over him and tell him what a "wunnerful li'l high
jumper-Olympic-potential-bundle-of-jumping-beans-sweety-pie-pooey-polecat,
etc., etc." he because that was your last pair of hose.
 
Ferretz Rule,
Lynne and the gang of 8 (Mista:  "Your L'eggs are my legs!")
[Posted in FML issue 2262]