The day after I came home from the hospital with Pink's new sister, the three of us headed to the mall with Grammy for some unmentionables for mama's role as a cow, ahem, life-giving milk maid. Grammy got Pink out of the car, I grabbed the stroller and set it up, took out the baby carrier, and everything was humming along. Until I put the carrier in the stroller.
Suddenly Pink looked around the carrier, at every square inch of stroller, and looked at me in alarmed confusion. "But that's MY stroller. I want to sit in the stroller. Why's the baby in the stroller?!?!" And there it was - her stroller had been hijacked by a sleeping baby in a (relatively) huge carrier. No room at the inn, so to speak.
Poor Pink. It's a rough adjustment going from three years of being the center of everyone's world (only grandchild on one side) to having your stroller yanked out from beside you in the parking lot at the mall. And that's why it's good to take Grammy along - she graciously carried all 45 pounds of Pink into the mall until the crying stopped. What a nice Grammy.
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