
There's a nice park two blocks from my house. Mom takes me there every morning before my nap, and I swing, slide, and ride the animals. But nothing is as fun as sitting in the bark and digging. I bend down, scoop it up in each fist, examine it carefully, and then rub it on my clothes. Of course, all this is a ploy to to make mom think that I could care less about eating it. However, just when the going's good, and I find a big piece that looks really tasty, the bark is, so to speak, snatched from my lips. I suppose moms will always be like that.