It was Monday, and we’d been out for hours. By 11 a.m., we’d already fed baskets of crunchy vegetables to three little pigs, had two and a half cups of coffee (me), and constructed a tiny Magna-Tile kingdom in a 120-year-old historic cottage (daughter).
My three-year-old and I took a load off in the shade, sitting side by side on a wooden bench at one o…
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