MOS: Just a wee little lie

Childrens heads do not easily dislodge from metal fences.

In fact, they dont budge at all.

Especially the lovely historical metal gates. It seems the more ornate the finials the more dire the trap. Like Chinese handcuffs wrapped around their fragile little necks, the more eager they are to pull their head back out, the tighter the grip seems to be.

And although there is probably a full three days of food scraps in the bottom of my stroller, a helpful stick of butter is rare. Not impossible to scavenge, but rare.

So, there is crying.

Kicking.

Sweating.

And thats just from me.

These are some of the lessons I have learned while pushing a stroller up and down the steep hills of our charming river town. Also, brakes on strollers are not just ornamental. The size of the city block triples when you are going uphill with a double stroller. And, if ever you are out of breath from such endeavors, you can count on the encouragement of a full trolley of onlookers. Be warned, though genuine in their intentions, it feels less than encouraging to have so many strangers clap and wave as you bend over in heat exhaustion.

Im sure your children probably walk right next to your stroller, never dangling their pieces into gutter grates or old stone walls. Im sure they never lay face up under gushing water gutters in the alley or try to straddle chain link fences that secure the neighborhood watchdog. Yours would probably pass at a game of mailbox leapfrog (at least after the first attempt) and would choose to walk right by the cavernous water drains without feeling obligated to toss in a new shoe. Always just one.

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MOS: Just a wee little lie