Dear Laney,
You got this swing for your birthday on August 24th. Since then, you have only emerged from this swinging pod for snack breaks and quick trips to the potty, but only after yelling, "DON'T LET HAGEN TOUCH MY SWING!"
You like to swing so high that the swing grazes the tree trunk. You like to pretend that you're on a rocket ship and the tree is the sun and the table in the yard is Mars, so we'd better not stop there or monsters will get us. You do not like to stop for nap time:
Love,
Mom
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