Angel Sold Her Kids’ Toys at Her Yard Sale Without Them Knowing [Photos]

Hey Braden!  You know your favorite pillow?  The one that looks like a giant swollen dog.  Yeah!  That one.  Your mom sold it.  Hey Charlotte, you know all those little baby dolls you love carting around?  It's time to create an imaginary friend, Princess, because your momma threw them in the yard sale when you weren't looking.  That's right!  Angel had a yard sale over the weekend and waited until her kids were off duty and out of the house so she could sell their stuff behind their backs!

Exhibit A: Braden's Favorite Pillow

Yes, Braden.  Your favorite pillow is gone forever.  Now, the case could be made that you're getting ready to be a teenager and you really should move on from this. Middle school is difficult enough and you really don't need this skeleton in the closet.  However, your mother basically ripped it off you like a Band-Aid.  While it's priceless to you, she priced it to move, slapped a dollar sticker on it and it's likely, as I type, being dry-humped by a golden retriever who thinks it has a new girlfriend.  Sorry, Kid!

Exhibit B:  Parker's Tennis Shoes

Hey Parker!  Do you remember those New Balance tennis shoes of yours?  Well, good.  Because that's all they're ever going to be to you.  A memory!   Because your mom sold them to someone else.  That's okay, Buddy!  Don't worry.  Maybe when winter rolls around, we'll find some old tattered scraps and make you a coat of many colors and some shoes to match.

Exhibit C: Tucker's Trucks

Tucker, you have some really cool trucks!  That Road Ripper and big green garbage truck are awesome.  And I'm sure the kid who's playing with them right now thinks so too.  You know what, Tucker?  That's okay.  You don't need any toys.  You're getting at that age when all you need to have fun is a nostril and a finger.  You dig a boogie out of that nose the size of Mater from Cars and you're mom will think twice before she pedals your wares in her yard sale again.

Exhibit D: Charlotte's Baby Dolls

You know, Charlotte.  If your mother didn't clothes-hoard, maybe those baby dolls of yours would actually have some clothing to wear.  And let me add that it was very nice to see you Saturday at your yard sale.  However, it just broke my heart when you started handing me your baby dolls.  It was almost like you were begging ME to take them . . . even though you know Uncle Chad avoids children and their toys like the plague.  I equate toddlers to leprosy. However, I could sense that you . . . even at the tender, fragile age of two, knew that your mother was basically throwing your dolls to the curb like Annie and the orphans.  Don't worry, Honey.  The sun will come out tomorrow.  And when it does, you and your brothers will realize your mother sacrificed your toys at the altar of bundle deals.