Forbidden Fruit

Occasionally, I do something really cruel.  I don't mean to, because I haven't thought things through from Margaret's perspective, but then I realize that what I have done is just plain mean, and I feel bad.

Take, for example, my behavior the other night.  It was a nice evening, and so we decided to eat our dinner in the backyard.  I brought out a number of things stored in my pockets (I was carrying Margaret, and trying not to drop her down the back steps).  I put her down on the blanket and emptied them out.

 All so exciting, and none of them is she allowed to have.  The sadness.

And the stuffed giraffe DOES NOT MAKE UP FOR THE CRUELTY OF TAKING AWAY THE ONLY THINGS SHE EVER WANTED, THE BEER AND THE CELL PHONE AND THE FORK, she mentioned politely.

Poor Margaret.