Dashingly handsome and obnoxiously sweet, all summed up in my three month smile.
There is this thing called a picnic.
It can happen outside.
It can happen inside, too.
But basically, wherever it happens, it consists of laying flat on your back on a blanket watching your big sister eat food you aren’t allowed to eat.
At least inside picnics don’t have the problem of blinding sunshine.
Yeah, not sure I understand the appeal of the whole picnic thing.