Miles and I went for a walk before dinner this evening, and while Miles wanted to ride on his tricycle, he also insisted on bringing this unwieldy box toy with us.
I tried to talk him out of it. I explained how he was going to get tired of lugging it around. I tried to innocently hold it while we descended the stairs and stash it when he wasn’t looking. Nothing worked. He demanded that the box come with us.
As we went around the block, Miles occasionally struggled and grunted, trying to shift his body as the box made this virtually impossible. Ultimately (surprise surprise), Miles began wailing about his discomfort in the seat and I had to step in. “Miles, do you want me to hold the box?”
“Yes,” Miles admitted.
To his credit, he made it about three quarters of the way through the walk. So he dealt with the burden for longer than I thought he would.
The Perils (& Pride) of Paternity 