Dear Weeb,
I'm not sure what you and your Cousin J were doing, but somehow, your slipper ended up on Grandma's ceiling fan. Aunty M, Grandma and I were in the kitchen. Grandpa came in to see why all the uproarious granddaughter giggling had stopped. He told us the two of you were discussing how to get the slipper down.
I grabbed my camera and walked into the room to be met with two pairs of "we're in trouble" eyes. I asked, in my sternest voice, "What happened?" I can't remember what the two of you said, but you were both talking quietly, at the same time, coming up with grand tales of how it got up there and both denying fault. I asked, again in a stern voice, "And I suppose you think I'm quite mad about this, don't you?"
You both just looked at me with wide eyes and sort of nodded.
I understand why Grandpa used to tell us tall tales and try and trick us when we were kids, because the look on your faces must have been very similar to the looks we'd give him.
I couldn't keep a straight face anymore and started laughing, then took a picture. Then I told you not to throw slippers around anymore and that you could have been really hurt if that fan fell or the light bulbs in the ceiling fan light broke and fell on you.
Part of me wonders if I should have just left you both to figure out how to get it down yourselves. Part of me wishes I'd been having a slipper fight with you!
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