One day this week, I made a batch of devil's food cookies. After dinner that night, as both The Husband and I were raiding the cookie jar, I said to him, "These can't stay here. I'm taking them to The Granddaughters tomorrow." After dinner last night, I bagged up most of the cookies, and we walked them across the road. When we came home, the Little Rotten Baby came with us. She wanted to go out to the porch when we got here.
During the porch-cleaning frenzy of a couple of weeks ago, I'd gathered up small toys and piled them in a little wagon, a miniature replica of the metal red wagon we all grew up with. I don't know how old this wagon is - we "inherited" it when an aunt died - but it's pretty old. The LRB wanted to play with it, but I'd not gotten around to cleaning it, and it was dirty. I wiped the wagon down with a paper towel, but this cleaning job did not suite the LRB. She said, "Do you have a water hose?" We took the wagon outside and washed it and dried it. She took the handle and said, "Now, I need something to put in it." As she was gazing around the yard, looking for cargo, she spied the tricycle that has been here going on 20 years. "Does that still work? Can I ride it?" We had to wash it, too.
This created a dilemma. She wanted to ride the tricycle, but she also wanted to pull the wagon. Her eyes lit up at the suggestion that she could pull the wagon with the tricycle. I went inside and got some string and tied the knots. She jumped on the tricycle. The pedal mechanism is rusty, and the front tire seemed about halfway flat. She had to bear down hard on the pedals to get going. When the slack went out of the string, it yanked the front wheels right out from under the wagon, and she was left dragging the handle.
The Husband and I evaluated the situation and discovered that the nut had come off the bolt that attaches the handle (and the front wheels) to the wagon bed. We spent about 10 minutes rummaging through toolboxes and drawers, looking for a nut, and finally found one that would work. With the wagon repaired and re-attached, she made about three passes around my car and then asked if she could take the wagon and the tricycle home, even though she already has a spiffy new pink trike. She had a mind to ride the old trike home, pulling the wagon with it, but we would not let her, as it was about to get dark, and there's a blind hill in one direction and a curve in the other, and cars zoom down this road like it's a racetrack. We disconnected the trike from the wagon and walked them and the LRB across the road.
As soon as we reached her driveway, we reattached the wagon to the trike, and she took off. Before she'd pedaled 20 feet, the wagon went sideways; it had lost a bolt holding one of the back wheels. She made it to the front porch steps, with one rear corner of the wagon grating on the concrete loud enough to cause her dad to come out to see what was causing the ruckus.
We left the whole broke-down mess in her front yard.
* * * * * * * *
While The Husband and I were rummaging around for a nut for the wagon, the LRB rummaged around in the sewing room and found a small pencil sketch of a frog holding a martini glass. She brought it to me and asked if she could take it home. I said yes, "...but let me show you another drawing." I showed her the colored pencil drawing I did of her. She said, "Who is that?" (which kind of busted my bubble, truth be told - there's nobody better than a 4-year-old at keeping you humble). I pulled out the portrait of her next older sister. She immediately recognized her, and then she realized that she was the subject of the other drawing. She said, "I'm going to take both of these home."
I promised to let her take them home when they're finished.
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