(you can’t ride in my) little red wagon


A fantasia: Man parks minivan and loads up little red wagon with diaper bag, sunscreen, bug spray, floaties, noodles, multicolored plastic buckets and shovels, beach tent, towels, beach chairs, beach umbrellas, cooler full of chips, sandwiches, and cold drinks, hauls said wagon over boardwalks and hot sand, risking splinters and burned feet, follows totally in-control wife, who looks like she’s leading a goddamn safari, and toddler, waits for said wife to pick the “perfect spot,” pitches said beach tent (with flexible fiberglass poles and yellow plastic spikes) while totally in-control wife looks on, secures said tent so it doesn’t blow away in the wind and impale other beachgoers, listens to wife complain about the bugs, the sand, the wind, the water, the sun, the toddler playing too close to the water’s edge, tells wife to fuck off and hitchhikes home.


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