His second Christmas, he had cute fitted pajamas that accentuated his rotund belly:
This year, I found red long johns (the ones with the butt flap) at RedEnvelope.com. As an added bonus, you could personalize them. On December 1st, the night before we moved, I received the Christmas PJs. Mike was in Maryland for his last day as an employee of Northrop, so I was alone with Trouble. I opened the box to see they were there, then tossed it aside, figuring they would be safer in the box until after the move. By the end of the evening, thanks to Mikie, the box had been kicked into the dining room near the trash can.
The next morning was moving day. We woke up, dropped Mike off to pick up the moving truck, and started loading stuff into the car and driving it to the new house. On one of my return trips, I realized that I couldn't find the Christmas PJs. I called Mike, and he told me he threw the box in the dumpster when he took out the trash. Well, since there was no way I was going to shell out another $40 for pajamas, I raced back to the apartment to see if I could retrieve the box before anyone else threw out their trash.
Luckily, the dumpster was mostly empty. Unluckily, it did not have one of those sliding doors in the side. After setting Mikie up watching cartoons in the apartment, I carried a chair out to the dumpster. I leaned over the dumpster, using a coat hanger to flip the box over with one hand, and trying desperately to grab the plastic bag out of the box with the other. No sooner do I have the bag in hand when I hear something fall "clink" to the bottom of the dumpster. I reach for my pocket, just in time to realize that my keys had fallen out of it.
Being that the dumpster is taller than me, there was no way I could reach those keys without someone dangling me over the side by my legs. I could't even get close to them with the coat hanger. Sacrificing Mikie's step stool to the cause, I threw it into the dumpster and lowered myself onto it (because, with my luck, I figured that I might not be able to get out again without something to stand on). I grabbed my keys out of the puddle they were sitting in (I kept trying to convince myself it was just rainwater) and quickly made my escape.
Amazingly, the pajamas were completely unscathed (although, we washed them a couple times before use just to be safe). And, after a ton of antibacterial hand soap and Chlorox wipes, my keys and I were too.
It was all worth while to see Mikie running around Christmas Eve and Christmas morning in these:
The moral of the story (according to Mike): don't put a box by the trashcan unless you want it thrown out. I think it should be: Send your husband into the dumpster to retrieve what he threw away!
Love,
The Trahans
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