At first, it seemed a simple task. Tall concrete barriers restrained the sand before me and shaded my black frame from the sun. I beheld the gentle blonde slope with no trepidation. Why would I, veteran of many Death-Defying Morning Dashes with the Family Dog and proud survivor of The Zoo of Perpetual Wailing? Gentle reader, I have faithfully carried my young charge through many a kicking. The Dreaded Dropped Pacifier no longer daunts me. I am a soldier of the stroller army, and I have ground my wheels through mud and much worse.
Little did I know what those harmless-seeming grains had in store for me. Read More