Here's what happens:
-You sit on the couch, in the same spot, for a good 20-30 minutes. Making it all nice and warm.
-You get up to put another load of laundry into the washing machine.
-You go over to your purse to do some something or other.
-You come back to the couch and see this:
And Pete says "What? I've been sitting in this spot for like, an hour."
And you know that's a dirty lie, because you were just sitting in that spot 2 minutes ago.
And then he gets an itch on his leg:
And he starts to scratch in that way that he KNOWS you think is adorable. (You know, he just uses his front teeth to nibble on the spot, and pulls back his gums, so it looks kind of like a big, cheesy smile)
And you glare at him further.
And he says "Are you really going to make me move?"
To which you say "Get down Pete!"
And he begrudgingly does so.
And then you decide it's time to go say hi to your jeans that have a single digit under the word "Size" and they aren't as upset to see you as you thought they would be. Which is VERY encouraging since, when you weighed yourself last weekend at your mom's house, the number you saw in the second spot was a number that you didn't want to see again until you were with child. Which just adds more lemon juice into the ginormous paper cut of a fact that you aren't with child. And despite your mom's encouraging words of "Oh those scales are ALWAYS wrong" and your brother saying "weeeeell...", somehow the situation just doesn't get any better with ice cream.
So, the point is, you're glad that you and the jeans are still on a first name basis.
And that the cookie pants will always be there as back up.
Anyways, then these guys show up:
Please be noting the Baby Jesus penguin, sitting under his mother's feet. I know, I KNOW.