Teeny Tiny Coin Purses

Jojo, super caffeinated elf of the millenium, has completed 5 coin purses! And wrapped over 20 gifts in 2 days! Now I’m too worn out to write much about any of it. So, I’ll just post photos of 4 coin purses. The navy and pink elephant one is my favorite right now. It won’t be up for sale…nope. It will be living in my purse from NOW ON. That’s the hallmark of a great gift–when you can’t bear to part with it. I’m kidding. It was intended to be a gift and will be delivered tomorrow. I doubt any of these little trinkets will make it to Etsy until January though. I’ll need to replenish my gumball clasp supply.

One priceless holiday memory before I hit hay…when my Peanut was about 7 years old, he was enchanted with the inflatable lighted holiday decorations. You know the ones…the snow globes with real fake snow whizzing around Santa and Rudolph; the Nativity scene with inflatable baby; the life-size Santa with all the reindeer swooping down someone’s roof. We would gawk at the same mansion every year. They obviously had little kids too. The entire half-acre lot (aside from the massive abode) was blanketed in inflatable Christmas decor. They even had a three-story gateway in red, yellow and green over their driveway. We pulled over and Peanut said he wanted a closer look. He jumped out of the car and began waltzing through the air-blown wonderland. He had walked around towards the back of the display on the periphery of the yard, but then ventured deeper into the magic. Suddenly, he tripped. I yelled across the way and asked if he was okay, but then he tripped again. Two of the inflatables started swaying and tilting sideways. I yelled at him to run, run back to the car! In remarkable slow motion, Peanut started a chain reaction, tripping over every single invisible guide wire (they are entirely invisible at night by the way). Angels, snowglobes, reindeer, nutcrackers, mangers…nothing was safe. I started laughing, but then I really starting worrying that he was also tripping alarms and that the owners might come out packin’ heat. Between frantic screams and hysterical yelps of laughter, Pat sprinted across the lawn, being jerked around by each wire as it snapped his ankles. Our holiday disaster was not complete without the coup-de-grace. That’s right…the majestic three-story Christmas version of the L’Arc de Triomphe came tumbling down in one majestic heap. We fled the neighborhood, slightly giddy and exhilarated but also a little ashamed. We should have apologized to the folks…it was NOT an act of vandalism. And to be fair, we didn’t actually damage any of the blow-ups. We just had too much inflatable love.

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