Good-Bye Faithful Stroller, You’ve Served Us Well

I’m saying good-bye to a good friend tonight: our double-stroller.

Double-stroller, you’ve been good to us. You’ve taken a lot of abuse, yet you’ve remained steadfast in your devotion to serving my family and me. The problem is, though, that my children are sort of outgrowing their need for you. You were replaced tonight by a cheap, compact umbrella stroller thanks to Lisa at ParentsNeed.

I will miss you, though, because there are times when the bigger girls simply need a little respite from our excursion; you were always there to give them that. I will miss you because when we go out, I usually take a bag (or three), not to mention about five jackets plus my purse. You made a great pack-horse, and I’m not really sure how I will manage that part of future excursions without you now.

But we will figure it out in time. I just wanted you to know this hasn’t been a careless decision; much agony has gone into the making of it. But the time has come and the decision has been made: you will embark upon a new journey yourself this week as you will be lovingly placed in the campus free store. And perhaps you will serve another family with smaller children than my own in the same loving way you have served ours all these years.

May it go well with you, my friend. May your wheels always turn in the right direction, never squeak, or fall off. May the children who ride in you next not argue about who gets the back seat with its lovely recliner back.

Good-bye, my faithful double-stroller. Good-bye.

Somebody pass me the tissue. We retired the baby crib in January, and now this. The last vestiges of babyhood are quickly leaving our household. Sniff, sniff.

Good-bye, You ’ve Served Us Well

I’m saying good-bye to a good friend tonight: our double-stroller.
Double-stroller, you’ve been good to us. You’ve taken a lot of abuse, yet you’ve remained steadfast in your devotion to serving my family and me. The problem is, though, that my children are sort of outgrowing their need for you. You were replaced tonight by a cheap, compact umbrella stroller.
I will miss you, though, because there are times when the bigger girls simply need a little respite from our excursion; you were always there to give them that. I will miss you because when we go out, I usually take a bag (or three), not to mention about five jackets plus my purse. You made a great packhorse, and I’m not really sure how I will manage that part of future excursions without you now.
But we will figure it out in time. I just wanted you to know this hasn’t been a careless decision; much agony has gone into the making of it. But the time has come and the decision has been made: you will embark upon a new journey yourself this week as you will be lovingly placed in the campus free store. And perhaps you will serve another family with smaller children than my own in the same loving way you have served ours all these years.
May it go well with you, my friend. May your wheels always turn in the right direction, never squeak, or fall off. May the children who ride in you next not argue about who gets the back seat with its lovely recliner back.
Good-bye, my faithful double-stroller. Good-bye.
Somebody pass me the tissue. We retired the baby crib in January, and now this. The last vestiges of babyhood are quickly leaving our household. Sniff, sniff.