You know right after a break-in when you’re a little on edge and then your phone rings, your knees buckle and you collapse in a pool of your own vomit?

Imagine how hilarious you might think it would be then if you were making your bed, reliving the scene you walked in on over and over again just as you felt two hands grab your ankles from under the bed.

Hanna, that is NOT cool. Even for an eight year old.