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Living in a Haunted House

We're living with Amy and her husband Issouf and the twin grandbabies. Aren't they cute? And everything is wonderful. Oh, once in awhile you might remove a kid from the doorway, as they are heading out to play in traffic. They consider the move an act of oppression, and respond with tears and skull splitting shrieking. But they are cute little kids!
However, the house is now haunted. By toys. It seems that one may no longer buy toys that just sit there, like Legos or, as when I was a kid, sticks, rocks and dirt. No, these toys must entertain. So they whistle, sing, play, and talk. One toy features shapes and if you put the horse in the horse hole (wow, that doesn't sound good!), it will neigh. Since it works on light, when the sun sets the room suddenly erupts with horse neighs, sheep bleats and quacking. It's like a zoo dunk tank.

Sam likes a Santa toys that sings a rap song about being sexy. Never thought I'd include Santa, rap and sexy in the same sentence.

It gets worse. One toy talks. It says, "Would you like to play?" and "Let's play with shapes." Weird. But then it says, "I love you." Very disturbing when the object of one's affection object. Creepy. My granddaughter Lily has the custom model that says, "I love you... Lily." Yes, the thing knows her name. Do not leave me alone in the house with these toys!

I've already decided that if the thing ever asks for my social security number, I'm cutting it up and feeding it to the Kitchen Aid. What do you bet it would start screaming? I'm living in a Stephen King novel.
It's late. I'm going to bed. And locking the door.

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