31 Days: To Target and Back

Mom-lady fed me quickly this morning. I should have known something was up the way she was rushing me through my morning routine. I thought it was maybe because she wanted to hang out with me and look lovingly into my eyes.

Turns out she just wanted to take me on errands.

She took me to some place known as Target. She made a big fuss about how I would one day grow to love this mega-store, what with it’s bright lights, pretty colors, and soothing aroma of all things pretty.

Unfortunately for both of us, however, I had to ride in the dreaded “pumpkin” seat to get there. I thought I’d made my disdain for that terrible contraption perfectly clear.

Mom-lady needed a reminder on the drive to the store, and my persistence in screaming paid off because when we arrived, she picked me up and held me while we picked up the necessary items from the “holy land,” as mom-lady referred to the store on and off. Some of the items she had to retrieve?

Actual pumpkins, which are as lovely and sweet as they sound like they would be. So why, again, is my torture chamber car seat called a “pumpkin seat” again? These are curious matters to me.

Incidentally, I quickly fell asleep in mom-lady’s arms while we shopped the store.

Turns out Target is a lovely place, indeed.



31DaysmdThis month, I’m linking up with The Nesterfor this 31 Day series as I survive the newborn haze of sleepless nights, endless nursing, and squeezing in life in twenty minute increments throughout the day. If you want to receive the posts directly in your email inbox, just leave your email address in the box on the sidebar, and subscribe so you don’t miss a post!

I’ll share photos every day, some of them good, and some of them mediocre, because baby leaves me little time to worry about taking and editing the perfect photos.

I’ll also be sharing my daughter’s thoughts, as dictated to me telepathically while she nurses, because she has informed me that she is a mind ninja, and I am merely her portal to the outside world.

Her words, not mine.


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