I know, I know...the boots-and-knee-high-socks thing has been done to death. But it's comfy and warm and covers up some of my water-retaining legs. So we'll just have to agree to agree-but-let-the-pregnant-lady-have-her-way for another month or two, mmmmkay? Thanks a mil.
I took my 3-year-old daughter for a walk this morning. She's adorable but has a stubborn streak that comes to a very vocal head when she's asked to do something outlandish. Like walk. So she rode in the stroller.
Our route led us up a small hill and then back down. Wanting to change things up on the way home, at the bottom of the hill I took a scenic route (read: death-defying brush with nature) along the canal. It was muddy, snowy, slushy, puddley (yep. real word. maybe.), slippery, bumpy and all things "-y" that would potentially cause one well-meaning but off-balanced soul wearing zero-traction boots to careen into the nearby waterway.
You'll all breathe an enormous sigh of relief, as I did, when our squeal-worthy rugged-terrain journey ended with zero fatalities and only one really muddy boot. Which, frankly, is a happy albeit fairly anticlimatic ending to this tale.
I know what you're all thinking: Why would she share such a pointless Story of Meh? What a waste of my time. Doesn't she know Nate Berkus is almost on? Fair enough, but in my defense, the alternative was a riveting story about how I chewed a hangnail on my super-dry thumb until it bled and now the bandaid keeps coming off. So.
You're welcome, and I accept your apology.
Happy Tuesday.
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