I woke up one morning and realized that my daughter has more bags than I could ever buy.
Well, she does own more pairs of shoes than I do, too. The number of pairs can very nearly rival Imelda Marcos’ collection, to my family’s amusement.
I went over to where she was watching Barney and rummaged through her “countless” bags, picked one at random as she danced and watched me like a hawk.
I empty the contents onto her bed. She was talking non-stop — not to me, but to the bits and pieces on her bed.
Times have changed. The tides have turned.
And the contents of baby’s bags have somehow evolved.