Instead of the Christmas Angel

We have the Christmas Joe?

Look, all I asked was one simple task.

Please hang the gold balls on the tree while I run out and pick up your little brother from swim practice.

I walk in the door, plop myself down on the couch, yakkin' away to my mom, when I look up and see this.(Okay, yeah, I know we have a serious water damage issues, but it rains like 3 times a year here, so we're not in imminent danger.)

You've got to be kidding me.

I seriously almost put that bucket of Joes and their paraphernalia out for charity last week. No one has even played with them for at least a year. They occasionally come out during the summers to make a brief appearance as ship captains in the pool, but that just about covers their playtime duties. I noticed that last Sunday Brian had dragged them out of the closet, as they work cheaper than the SAG actors do, and he was organizing his latest video shoot. (I know this because I found his camcorder and about 10 batteries on the living room floor. Apparently, all our batteries are dead, but, pet peeve, they all get put back in the drawer instead of in the trash so we never know which are the good ones.)

But I digress.

Back to Joe, our sweet angel of mercy.

Notice he has his life vest on.

Is he worried he's going to drown up there?

Or maybe his life vest has a more symbolic meaning.

Perhaps it indicates his desire to buoy our spirits.

Or maybe he's just trying to keep his head above water in our lovely economy.

Maybe he's trying to tell us something.

Eh? What's that, Joe?

You say you're just the victim of some knucklehead kids?

I feel your pain, Joe, I feel your pain.