This morning I was cross-stitching. The phone rang so I put my cross stich on the arm of the couch to answer it. It was my Mom. She was telling me about Dad having fallen and injured this week. All of a sudden, Brumley looked at the cross stitch with the needle and thread sticking out of it and started batting at it a couple of times. I just burst out laughing, right in the middle of her telling me all the serious stuff. I told her I wasn't laughing at her but at Brumley. She continued her story. When she finished, I told her what Brumley had done. She started laughing too (although she did ask if the needle had injured him). Glad she understood why I couldn't control myself.
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