We has it.
Baby Bunting at its most literal. Bear rode around in her Bjorn, facing out from me, her willing mule, flapping her arms, kicking her legs, cackling every time mum turned around. Kids everywhere, some even smaller than a Bear.
I followed my girls around as we saw gates, playpens, toys, clothes and strollers. I kept an arm around her, smelled her hair, enjoyed, as always, the mere being there a part of things. Strollers are $200 or more a pop but the good stuff's free. And dads can't afford to take anything Saturday for granted.
A pub poem - My chip has fallen to the floor. The bar is crowded. I look down. *Sehnsucht*. A lawless longing for The unattainable. I frown.
19 hours ago