|You malign me, I have no interest in that silly wool|
|No interest at all|
|Ok, I lied, but I am lying on the wool, therefore it no longer exists as far as you are concerned.|
|Eye on the prize|
Those balls of wool, which are just asking to be nosed, and mouthed, and toothed, and loved to death, or at least destruction. You can then pick one up in your mouth and make your way back to the floor and make an unholy mess of all that yarn.
|Teeth in the prize|
|Hard to couch this|