My tale of wagon woe

Oh hey, Mom.

 

It's me, Brynn.

 

From this here laundry basket, I'm gonna tell you a story. I call it, "My Tale of Wagon Woe," but you tell me if you think of a better title by the end. OK? (Gosh. Just LOOK how cute I am! HOW do you even stand it, Mom??)

 

Where was I? Ah, yes. The wagon.

 

As is now our norm, I get in the wagon, and Dames puts his head down and gets to work. I point out awesome things, like TREES! But that punk doesn't even humor me by looking up!

 

He thinks he's so. cool. and big and strong because he can pull me in the wagon, and I'm all, I don't really care for this angle, Neenee. Neenee! Stop with the photos where I'm in the background! 

 

So, Dames is basically the most distractible driver in the history of wagon-pullers. Here, I was gently reminding him to focus on the job at hand. Unless there's a tree. You can break to appreciate the tree. But that's pretty much it.

 

Then, I started to realize these blankets in the wagon were all wrong. Completely unacceptable--and especially the way Neenee just threw them in there!

 

I could NOT get comfortable. Neenee was mumbling about The Princess and the Pea or some nonsense.

 

But eventually, I was able to relax a little.

 

That little respite was short-lived. Neenee asked if I wanted to get out and walk instead, but that didn't work for too long either. It was cold! Far too cold to be outside! (Neenee countered that it was 66 degrees, but I'm all but certain she added the second six in there.)

 

Anyway, we stopped by some flowers we sometimes like, and Neenee made the horrific suggestion that Dames put his arm around me to warm me up. Here's what I thought of the whole boy-touching-my-arm thing:

 

Somehow Neenee thought this was amusing, so she asked Dames if he'd try again, and I'm like, "ARE YOU SEEING THIS? Do I have evidence of this injustice to take to the authorities now??"

 

Ugh! At that point, it was all I could do to allow Neenee to wrap me in a blanket and carry me the rest of the way. About every tenth of a mile, I gently reminded her it was cold and that she was not allowed to put me down or back in the wagon.

Aren't I too cute to be subjected to this kind of treatment, Mother?