Yesterday, I had just settled down for a long winter's nap when Henry ripped open the package of new printer ink with a clatter, and I sprang up from my bed and cried What is the matter? It was the wrong ink for the printer, and it cost $50 and I knew, I just knew that I'd have to swallow the money and go buy another one. I bowed my head and maybe even shed a tear because you know it's the small things, and when Henry looked at me and asked what was wrong, I wiped it away, set my thin lips in a line, sighed and drove back to Staples. The manager was young, but I took my chance and asked him whether there was any place I could perhaps sell the wrong ink that I'd bought. When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a smile on his lips and the response that yes, no problem. You can just exchange it. He walked away. My eyes how they twinkled! My dimples so merry! And when I laughed, my belly shook like a bowl full of jelly.
Like all of that. My own little Christmas miracle. So, hallelujah and hark all the bells and don't you want to hear one Christmas carol, one of my favorites?
Here it is.
Reader, let's be more interactive and jolly. Tell me about your little Christmas miracle.
