This is how I found the bear this morning. Stripped. Leg Ripped Off. Stabbed in the back with vicious razor sharp teeth, stuffing coming out and everything. I'm afraid to see how her dating years turn out... especially when some idiot hormone raging kid breaks her heart, because this is what he'll look like after the fact. And that's before her dad gets to him. I'm debating whether or not I should be proud in advance of the fact, or scared that I'm going to have parents banging down my door because my baby hurt theirs.
Guess I'll worry about that in a couple years.
Poor bear. He now matches the hole in my couch, from the same vicious teeth... And the laundry scattered on my floor, no longer in nice, neat, symmetrical piles... Guess I have to start over and re-do all I did today again tomorrow. Tonight, however, I'll just try to restitch the bear.
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