I really like wagons. They're practical for adults and rather luxurious for those who fit in them. (Notice how I didn't limit that to kids? While my 6'4" frame won't allow me to ride in them, I applaud all who can and do.)
My nieces also love their wagon. On our wedding day these flower girls were more than happy to sit back while someone pulled them anywhere and everywhere. There were even loud sobs during the ceremony when it was time to get out. Large, loud sobs. Over the wagon. So cute.
But I'm getting side-tracked. Back to the
show story point.
Now there's a little red wagon living under our coffee table.
He's cute. And fun. And from my massive collection of doll size toys stashed away in my parent's basement.
Yes, family and friends who clearly remember my youth, this is Kirsten's wagon. For those who don't remember me as a child, here's a peek of me (Kirsti) with just a small part of my doll (Kirsten's) "house" --the dollhouse that literally took up half of the basement storage room:
Like the sweater? Me too.
Knowing this side of my personality is why when I tell my grandpa my latest plans for our house he chuckles and says, "just like a playhouse." Ok, actually he says that because I decorated our playhouse too, but that's another story.
Back to the point.
Here's what we had beneath the coffee table before. A basket holding magazines and a couple antlers on top.
...but it's just not a little red wagon.