One walk, one morning.
"But WHY?" do we have to go? "Isn't it time" to turn around?!?
The walk is more for me than them, I know as I Make them Do these Terrible Things, all of a mile and half. (and "Do you have" fifty cents so I can buy another rock from a bubble gum machine to add to my collection of 3,403 rocks that are in glass jars so Mom can pretend there is reason to the chaos?)
(I didn't have fifty cents, really.)
She'll keep sighing, but we'll keep coming, and that's okay. It was mostly for me.
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