The perfect little family pulled up in a burgundy Ford Pinto and toddled out in their snow boots onto the roadside. They were the seventeenth perfect little family to arrive that day. There was a red-nosed poppa, with his funny flap hat and trimmed mustache, and a blushing momma. A little boy and a littler girl – so little was this one, the snow on the ground came darn near up to her dimpled chin.
There was just enough room for them to stand between the road and the nearest of infinite rows of evergreens. Continue reading