Tonight my intrepid Scouts returned from their pack meeting-turned-Christmas-Party and Rascal proudly displayed a prize he’d won. I grabbed my husband’s arm and fake-screamed (sort of). Haus Meister said in mild disbelief, “Yes, he traded a boy a fire-starter for that thing.”
The first time I step on it in the dark, it’s outta here.
(and just so you know, it moves around when you pull the string on its back)