This is Just Mean
Really.
We stuff Avery into a sweater, and a puffy suit. We strap him in a stroller that renders it impossible for him to move. We place a restrictive blanket over his legs. We stick mitts, which have NO finger holes at all, on his hands, making it difficult for him to practice those fine motor skills he's honing.
And we wonder why he freaked out, throwing his car and screaming for macaroni, when we took him on errands last night.
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