The scene: we were watching a cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie and I astutely noted that the pasty rotund man with the white beard was probably Santa Claus. (Because come on: he was a new caretaker that no one had seen before? Obvi Santa.) A moment later, Brady arose from his spot on the carpet and --with considerable vigor-- growled "no more spoilers!" Then he swatted at me with his blanket.
I laughed and laughed. (Because again, duh, it was obviously Santa.)
I really needed a good belly shaker after the couple of months I've had so I'm thankful that his simple --albeit overly aggressive-- proclamation gave me one. (And I'm equally thankful that after swatting at me a few times, the frustration turned to giggles.)
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