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Dear diary,
I got the six-week blues. Not only do I get acne,
but these jokers start bullfighting games with me in the pram.
Yessiree, I'm in that blur, the Digit between the Dad and the Widget.
Serve them right if Mum had a hydrant behind the cape around the
next corner, except I'd go flying too. Heh, heh, it would almost be
worth it to see the smirk wiped of my sister's face. Loudmouth, cocky,
little stick insect.
People make jokes about Dad and suburbia and having a tandem pram. I reckon
this pram's cool... what amuses them I wonder?