The other night we went downtown for The
Sights and Sounds of Christmas, an annual Christmas festival here in San
Marcos that features food, music, a “snow” machine (which seemed to be
blowing dishwasher soap foam), a live manger scene, and an absolutely
retina-boggling number of lights. While we were waiting in the car for some
friends to show up, Abby pulled her favorite stuffed rabbit out from
wherever it had been traveling, and somehow managed to decapitate it in the
process.

“Waaaaaaaah!” she wailed. “What is it?” we asked, our concerned parent mode
activating at the sound of that heart-wrenching cry. “My bunny’s head came
off!” Abby wailed, holding her limp rabbit body up for display. And as
concerned, loving parents, there was really only one thing we could do:
laugh our heads off. “It’s not funny!” Abby insisted, barely able to make
herself heard over our guffaws.

Straining every nerve to master ourselves, we finally managed to stop
laughing and tell Abby “You’re right sweetie. I’m sorry we laughed at your
rabbit. We know that it’s your favorite animal, and wouldn’t have done
anything to hurt you on purpose. Please forgive us.” That seemed to mollify
her, and we continued our getting-ready process.

As Abby stepped out of the car, still clutching the rabbit’s body, an impish
grin dawned on her face, and she stuck the bunny in my face. “I’m headless
bunny! I’m headless bunny!” she shouted, waving it around in my face. And in
spite of its newly bifurcated status, she still carries it around with her,
thoroughly enjoying the company of her little headless friend.