I Was A Child Grinch (part 1)
When I was four years old, I really wanted a dollhouse.
Since my father was handy with tools, he decided to make my dream come true and build me one for Christmas.
Every evening my father would come home after a long day of work only to disappear for hours inside his workshop.
He hand built the house, the shingled roof, the three levels, and all of the furniture inside. A tiny rocking chair, an itsy bitsy grandfather clock, an adorable toilet… it went on and on and on…
Every room was furnished. Rugs installed. Wallpaper hung. (Wallpaper!!!) And Christmas morning, he placed his masterpiece under the tree.
I gleefully tore through the wrapping paper… only to stop mid-squeal and shout, “What the ..??? Hey! There’s no staircase!!!”
Sorry, Dad. I was a four year old asshole.