As the tulips grace the gardens of the mid-atlantic, I begin to dream of summer evenings, sitting on the porch swing.
Soft breezes. Crickets. Babies…in bed.
No, wait. Babies IN BED. And I said PORCH SWING!
Those Fisher Price swings were pretty magical for my kids, but someone should tell this child that the motor is no match for 20 extra lbs. of child. The doll looks like it’s saying, “Yo! Wake up! WE ARE NOT SWINGING.”
Someone get this kid a lemonade.
I’ll be on the porch if you need me. Perhaps I’ll try a hammock instead.